


Voltron Drabble Collection

by bffimagine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 06:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 19,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bffimagine/pseuds/bffimagine
Summary: Tumblr is blowing up and these drabbles are taking shelter here for now.Pretty much klance and genfic.





	1. Vacation Time

**Author's Note:**

> Since I don't trust the longevity of my [Tumblr](http://bffimagine.tumblr.com) at this point, I am collecting my drabbles here to save them...

“Okay, but is this the weird, unnecessary beach episode or something that happens in every shoujo anime ever?” Hunk plucked at a loose thread in his tank top, grimacing as the rest of the fabric remained plastered to his skin with sweat.

Pidge aggressively applied a second thick layer of sunscreen to every inch of her skin.

“Is that actual sunscreen or are you putting on a liquid sweater?” Keith asked with a raised eyebrow.

Pidge glared at him. Trails of sweat cut through her sticky UV shield.

“I burn worse than any cookies Lance has ever tried to make,” she grumbled, rubbing some more cream onto the tips of her ears.

“Hey!” Lance shouted indignantly. He glistened in the sun (or whatever star it was that heated this planet), tiny beads of sweat on his shoulders and dipping along his spine like little round diamonds. Keith swallowed around the heaviness that rose to his throat as a pearlescent drop traced the line of Lance’s jaw.

“It was like, one time I got distracted. ONE TIME!”

“No, Lance, it was every time. I swear you somehow ruin the ready-to-bake cookies that you literally just have to remember to take out of the oven.” Hunk sighed and scoped out a nice shady spot where some hulking stalagmite thing rose out of the loose sandy stuff covering the ground. He started to spread out their mats and towels.

Shiro was already in the water (which was actually legit water here, good ol’ H2O…), sunglasses glinting as he floated on his back. His arm got uncomfortably hot in direct light, which seemed like an odd technological oversight for the Galra, but whatever. The water hissed and rose in thin streams of steam from around the prosthetic. Keith winced in sympathy as he thought about the skin that was in contact with the metal.

“Alright, let’s go, gremlin,” Lance sighed, grabbing Pidge’s disgustingly greasy arm. His hand cut a print through what basically looked like frosting on Pidge’s skin. 

She yelped in protest. “You’re  _exposing_  me!”

Keith just shook his head and helped Hunk set up the cooler thingy that Pidge rigged as essentially a portable refrigerator. He flopped face-first onto one of the mats, feeling the sweat pool in the dip of his back and between his shoulder blades, drying uncomfortably tight in the breeze.

Allura and Coran eventually made it over to them. Coran busied himself making probably the most elaborate sand castle Keith had ever seen in his life, and Allura wandered off to wade in the water with the mice. Of course, Lance and Pidge saw them and essentially tempted fate by seeing just how soaked they could get Allura’s dress before she killed them.

Eventually Lance made it back to Hunk’s shady little haven where the yellow paladin was immersed in a book. He lounged comfortably beside Keith, who was still stretched out on one of the other mats with his head pillowed on his arms, fast asleep.

“Stop pining so loud, man, I’m trying to read,” Hunk quipped without even looking away from wherever he was on his page. Lance stuck out his tongue in an show of how he was truly the paragon of maturity.

“Not pining, dude,” Lance barked back, but quietly so he wouldn’t wake Keith. Keith shifted a bit in his slumber, his hair rustling with the movement of the air, bones and sinew rippling beneath his skin.

Lance’s mouth suddenly felt really dry.

“Do we have any space juice in that fridge thing?” he said conversationally, plopping down next to Hunk and rummaging through the small ice box. Success! He speared his straw through one of the packets and slurped at it happily.

“I heard there’s a pretty cool cave thingy across the water,” Hunk said mildly, turning another page. Lance continued to sip at his juice but his gaze was trained on Hunk’s face. “You have to swim there to get to it, and the natives said that only their best and strongest swimmers have been able to–”

“Well then, I guess we gotta show them how the paladins of Voltron get things done!” Lance cut him off, finishing off his juice pocket and tucking the empty container under the portable fridge. He stood up and brushed off his blue swim trunks, winking over his shoulder at his best friend.

“Selfies or it didn’t happen!” Hunk called after him.

“What?” Keith groaned into the crook of his elbow, barely lifting his head to squint at Hunk.

“Don’t worry about it, Galra Keith,” Hunk hummed contentedly.

“Why are you still calling me that?!”

* * *

“Only Lance would turn this damn vacation into a rescue mission,” Keith grumbled into the comm as he scouted the surface of the water. He couldn’t deny the cold knot of dread that was getting progressively tighter and tighter in his stomach.

“He’s probably fine,” Shiro reassured him, voice soothing. “He’s a great swimmer, he probably just got distracted by something out here and lost track of time.”

Pidge snorted and said something unintelligible through the comm, but Hunk’s answering laughter made Keith wonder what he was missing out on. Then he saw a flash of blue and he dove for it.

Lance was sitting on a lip of rock that seemed to lead into some… cave?

Keith asked Red to stay put while he retrieved Lance. She purred in that familiar comforting way of hers and let him out of her mouth while she hovered nearby, no surface large enough for her to land.

“Lance! What the hell are you doing?” Keith shouted as soon as he was close enough. Lance’s head snapped up to look at him and he grinned.

“Before you chew my head off, you gotta come see this!”

Lance hastily grabbed Keith’s hand and Keith did NOT feel any warmth rising to his face. He awkwardly scrabbled for Lance’s fingers so he wouldn’t lose the blue paladin inside this weird alien sea cave.

As soon as they stepped inside, the reverberations of their footsteps seemed to echo into light and colour–the cave had been pitch-black from outside, but as soon as the waves of sound entered the cave’s open maw, its walls were suddenly illuminated by what looked like glowing balls the size of Keith’s fist that made the smooth crystalline rock glitter like a rainbow on ecstasy.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Lance watched his face, admiring the colours dancing on every plane of smooth pale skin.

“Yeah,” he whispered in response.

“This is amazing.”

Keith took another step, and the sound bounced off those incredible walls again–the light and colour shifted, chasing the sound, shimmering and iridescent.

Lance gave Keith’s hand another squeeze with his own.

“I guess I spent more time in here than I intended, if you guys all came out to look for me,” he mused. Keith looked at him, eyes still wide with astonishment and wonder.

“I don’t blame you. I would stay in here forever, if I could.”

Lance chuckled–the sound made all the lights in the cave go pink and gold. He dropped down to sit cross-legged on the cave floor. It shone like a polished mirror and made him look like he was surrounded by a meadow of soft glowing petals.

Keith slowly sat down next to him when Lance gave his hand an insistent tug. Even when they were sitting next to each other, Lance still didn’t let go.

“It’s not time to go back yet, anyway,” the blue paladin said quietly. The lights seemed to hum in agreement. His blue, blue eyes seemed to be lights of their own as they bore into Keith’s soul.

Keith didn’t break eye contact. The lights were blinking purple and silver in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We have at least five more minutes.”


	2. The Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a Royalty!AU because Lance would look incredible in a crown (or a tiara)

“But, your Majesty–”

“Tiago, how many times have I told you not to call me that?”

Lance’s manservant hesitates a moment before bowing his head.

“Your Grace–”

“Nope.”

Finally, Tiago sighs. “Your Highne–”

“Still not listening.”

Tiago looks like he’s about to tear up. “Prince Lance-ah Banana of the Swiggity Swagga Pajamas–”

Lance smirks in his direction. “Yeeeees?”

Tiago’s eyes flit heavenward. God grant him patience. “–you were due at the Galran court over an hour ago.”

“No, that’s tomorrow.”

The pained expression on Tiago’s face intensifies. “I’m afraid not, your maj–Prince Lance-ah Banana of the Swiggi… ugh.”

Lance stares at him.

“Oh. Shit.”

* * *

“We should’ve known the Altean delegates weren’t planning on showing up,” Keith hisses to his liege, Crown Prince Takashi Shirogane of the Earthian palace. Shiro, as he prefers to be called, nudges his head knight with his elbow.

“It’s fine, we knew Princess Allura was on a peacekeeping mission on Arus, and her brother may have been needed elsewhere.”

Keith grimaces. “Or that airhead just forgot–”

“Did anyone send for the most handsome prince in the universe?”

Keith’s grimace morphs into a wince. “–the meaning of humility.”

Prince Lance sweeps through the room like a tornado of butterflies, leaving swooning and stares of awe in the aftermath of his social flouncing. Keith just barely suppresses a shudder when the Prince of Altea bows to Shiro and brushes his lips over his knuckles, eyes locked on Keith’s with the rapt attention of a predator. Shiro doesn’t seem to notice; or, if he does, the dastardly Prince just wants to leave Keith to suffer.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Prince Lance purrs as he sidles in close to Keith. He does this every time there’s a big interplanetary function and it drives Keith up any available vertical surface that can be called a wall.

“I assure you that the pleasure is all mine, your Highness,” he forces out from his clenched jaw. A muscle jumps in his temple under the tension.

Prince Lance winks at him and he tries not to let it show that his insides have liquefied.

Ugh, why does the bratty Altean Prince have to be so…  _lovely_  to look at?

“Keith, sweetheart, I must insist that you call me–”

“I am not calling you that stupid title–”

“It’s not stupid!”

“With all due respect, your Majesty, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Prince Lance pouts in the way that only royalty can pout, because he honestly doesn’t know how to deal with people refusing to give him things on his terms.

“Keith…”

Keith’s eyebrow twitches.

“Ugh, fine! Prince Lance-ah Banana…” he lets the rest trail off into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Keith’s face reddens. This is so humiliating.

“Prince Lance-ah Banana of the Swiggity Swagga Pajamas! There? Are you happy now?”

Prince Lance chuckles and presses a light kiss to Keith’s cheekbone. It is so soft and delicate it feels like a dewdrop might feel on a flower petal, cradled fondly on a fragrant bed.

“Delighted,” Prince Lance grins. “It sounds so charming, coming from you.”

Keith feels his face burning up to the roots of his hair. Prince Lance offers his hand, palm up in invitation.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, the epitome of royal poise and elegance.

This, coming from the guy who literally just asked to be referred to as a fruit in elaborate sleepwear.

Still, Keith can’t resist. He lets Prince Lance lead him out onto the dancefloor, feeling incredibly self-conscious to be twirled about amongst all the nobility. Prince Lance is a great dancer ( _of course_ , dammit) and he effortlessly leads Keith through a complicated sequence of steps that Keith struggles to keep up with. Finally, Prince Lance snakes his arm around Keith’s waist from behind and pulls their chests flush together, noses so close they’d be bumping into one another if they turn their heads  _just so_.

“Are you going to run away when the clock strikes midnight?” Prince Lance asks with an unfairly beautiful smile.

Keith absolutely does not squeak out an indignant, “Of course not.”

Prince Lance chuckles.

“Well then, I suppose you didn’t notice you lost your shoe on the other side of the ballroom.”

Curse this awful, gorgeous, horrible, stunning man!


	3. Top Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dance!AU where klance/laith gets paired up on a competition and it's a mess.

“Welcome to the top twenty, dancers!” the tall blonde hostess said with a blindingly white grin. The audience erupted into deafening applause. Lance smiled at the camera, hoping it wasn’t as shaky as his hands. The other contestants high-fived around him.

“For your first exciting week as Altea’s top dancers, we will be pairing you so that no two partners dance the same style!”

There was a chorus of ‘ooh’s from the audience. Lance clenched his hands into tight fists to keep them from trembling.

It felt like the Sorting Hat scene from  _Harry Potter_ , each dancer awaiting the drop of the guillotine of fate (and reality TV).

“–McClain, who will be partnered with contemporary dancer Keith Kogane!”

Oh shit!

Lance searched the clump of bodies on stage as he stepped forward, seeking out his new partner for the week–and hopefully the week after, and the week after that, if they could keep their asses in the competition.

The guy that stepped up too was slim and a few inches shorter than Lance.

The crowd was stunned into silence.

“I know it’s a little different from what our viewers are used to,” the hostess explained smoothly, “but this year, we decided not to let genders determine our top twenty. Hence, we ended up having some uneven numbers. Besides, partnerships aren’t meant to be dictated by genders!”

Lance and Keith, his partner, made eye contact over the stage apron. Lance could almost taste the electric antagonism that crackled through the air; this was going to be the hardest week of his life.

* * *

Fuck it, this would be the hardest week of  _anyone’s_  life.

Keith was incredibly talented and somehow just naturally picked up everything the choreographer threw at them, but his patience lasted all of negative ten seconds before he was storming off into a corner because okay, Lance hadn’t quite gotten the footwork down.

“Focus!” the choreographer, who introduced himself as Shiro, yelled for the umpteenth time. “Patience yields focus. Let’s go again from the top. And 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Lance gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through the rapidfire choreography. He was actually doing okay, but then he stumbled for the millionth time and Keith let out a growl.

“How the hell did you make it here if you can’t learn something this simple?!”

Lance tried to put on an indignant front, but internally, he was crushed.

“Wow, asshole, you need to step the fuck off,” Lance bit out. Keith did the exact opposite and got a little closer.

“I am not going to let your failure send me home,” Keith hissed between clenched teeth. Lance rose to the bait.

“Because you’re afraid you can’t pull your own damn weight in the solo elimination round?”

“You’re the one who should be afraid, dumbass. You can’t even get this tango down.”

“Boys!” Shiro finally shouted over them, bodily coming between them to push them away from each other. Lance had been so close to Keith he could feel the heated rage rolling off the other dancer in waves.

Shiro stared them down sternly. Both Keith and Lance relented.

“Let’s call it a day. Go cool off for the night. I’ll see you both here bright and early tomorrow, and you’d better have your shit together!”

Keith breezed right out. Lance was too angry to do anything else but trail after him out of the studio.

* * *

“Seriously, what is your fucking problem?!” Keith griped.

“Clearly, it’s you! What the hell did I do wrong this time? I’ve got the steps down, you need to actually listen to the damn music instead of rushing through it!”

“You’re always a count behind!”

“No, you’re a count ahead!”

“Do you guys ever stop fighting?” Shiro muttered, massaging his temples.

Lance rubbed at his eyes. He’d come back to the studio to rehearse on his own for a few hours last night, and was too stressed to sleep. They only had a few more days before they had to put this piece on stage, and they weren’t even close to ready. Add that to the fact that any kind of ballroom or Latin dance was maybe a bajillion lightyears away from Lance’s comfort zone of popping, locking, and breaking, and… well, this was a royal shit show.

“Listen, you are literally the worst and I hate working with you as much as you clearly hate me, so–”

“I don’t hate you,” Keith mumbled.

Lance did a double-take.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“I said, I don’t hate you.” Keith shifted slightly and his eyes dropped to his sneaker-covered feet as he wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead.

“Oh, well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“Listen,” Keith said softly, and Lance almost wanted to leave just to spite him. Fortunately, he was too much of a wuss to do so. “I… yesterday, I was out of line. You clearly just needed some time for the choreo to sink in. That was unfair of me. I just… I can’t go home on this, okay?”

Lance swallowed. “Okay. Okay, I can get behind that. Let’s… let’s stick it out?”

Keith offered a tiny smile.

“Yeah.”

* * *

Showtime passed in a blur of lights and an adrenaline rush. The swell of music propelled Lance through the routine, legs basically moving on their own and muscles burning, screaming with the exertion.

The final move was coming up–it was a risky lift that ended in him catching Keith only inches from the ground, and it was kinda sultry and sexy and shit. Or at least, that was what Shiro wanted, and they hadn’t been able to really get it, even backstage. Lance could feel the nervous tingles rising higher and higher up his spine.

This was it–there was no turning back.

Keith threw himself into the lift with complete blind trust that Lance was gonna catch him. Lance smoothly slid his arm between Keith’s thighs (damn those plies did amazing things) and caught him around the back of his neck with the other. As Keith’s body succumbed to gravity, Lance tried to absorb the acceleration and for one heart-stopping moment, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop Keith’s descent before the floor did.

Somehow, Keith got his arms securely around Lance’s neck and he pulled himself closer. Next thing Lance knew, the music had just ended and Keith’s lips were sealed over his own. He almost wondered if it was intentional or not, but there was the slightest whisper of the tip of Keith’s tongue over his bottom lip and he really hoped the sequined pants would be distracting enough that the entire country of Altea would not be able to see his boner.

One of the judges screamed. Honestly, Lance couldn’t even hear what the critiques were over the pounding of blood in his ears and the way his entire body seemed to ignite from the point of contact where Keith was  _holding his hand_.

“We make a good team,” he breathed as they stepped off the stage. Keith turned back to look at him, eyes bright with exhilaration and mouth quirked into a little smile.

* * *

They still ended up in the bottom three pairs. Lance did what he did best and freestyled, throwing in as many elaborate flourishes as he could. Just as he finished a round of air flares that he transitioned to a one-handed spin, the countdown began. Time to throw in the big guns.

3: he took a few steps to gain momentum–

2: threw his weight onto his hands–

1: vaulted off his hands into a double front tuck–

Bam! The music ended with a gong-like sound on which Lance stuck his landing into a smooth roll over his head and onto his feet.

The crowd went wild.

Next, it was Keith’s turn. The hostess introduced him, and when the music started, Lance was caught off-guard. It was a snippet of piano music, so deceptively simple… yet somehow, it felt like it was filling the very air they breathed.

The auditorium was pin-drop silent save for the music and the mesmerizing movement of Keith’s body through air like he was simultaneously weightless and more massive than anything else in the world. He effortlessly pirouetted eight consecutive times in a row before pulling a dead stop in a breathtaking layout, back bowed so far he was a hairsbreadth from catching the ankle of his supporting leg and his opposite leg stretched perfectly straight toward the ceiling. He recovered by counterbalancing his torso with his leg, reversing his body’s trajectory so he was sailing through the air in a front aerial onto his knees, bones hitting the stage with the lightest tap-tap as if he had just stepped down from standing.

Keith moved through an intricate sequence of choreography that put most of Lance’s best locking skills to shame. Then he did some crazy floorwork that Lance couldn’t describe even if he wanted to.

Shit. Keith was fucking incredible.

* * *

Somehow they both made it out safe for the week. It was stressful, and Lance was sore, and he never, ever wanted to be in the bottom tier ever again.

Their first rehearsal for the second round went a lot more smoothly than last week’s had, but Keith’s performance was flat. Subdued. Eerily focused to the point of coldness–none of that fiery passion from before.

Lance approached him after their choreographer called it a day. He strolled up to where Keith was sitting with his back against the cool mirror, a spectre of condensation forming behind him on the glass. Lance held out a cold water bottle.

Keith took it and unscrewed the cap. He gulped down half the bottle before his eyes flickered up to Lance’s face.

“Thanks.”

Lance shrugged it off in a companionable way and slid down the mirror so they were sitting close enough that their knees could touch, if they let them. Lance held his distance carefully.

“Everything okay, man?”

Keith’s mouth thinned into a hard line. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Lance let the silence linger for a few moments.

“Hey man–”

“I can’t lose this,” Keith interrupted. His voice was quiet but choked up. Lance’s mouth clicked shut.

“I can’t go back empty-handed, not after everything… dance is all I’ve got left, I have to do this.”

“You’re not going home this wee–”

“That place was not  _home_ ,” Keith spat, staring off into space. He seemed to be seeing something Lance couldn’t.

“Okay, alright. Wherever it was, you’re not going back there this week. We’re not gonna be in the bottom. We’re gonna do this.”

Keith finally looked–as in really, actually looked–at Lance.

Another few seconds passed.

“You’re a much better dancer than I gave you credit for,” Keith said.

Lance snorted. “Oh, wow, gee, tha–”

“–but even if… even if you weren’t, I’d still be really thankful that I got you as a partner.”

Whoa.

Lance tried not to think about how warm he felt all over.

“Uh, right back at’cha, buddy.”

They lapsed into another silence, but this one was considerably less strained than its predecessors. Eventually, Keith’s head fell onto Lance’s shoulder. Lance just shuffled in a bit closer so he’d be more comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there was some serious sappiness in there. I love dance!AUs since I spent my whole life dancing and I figured I could use all that comp knowledge for good and not evil, but alas…
> 
> PS: I imagine Keith to basically dance like Lex Ishimoto. If you haven't seen him move, you must get on over to Youtube immediately.


	4. What Does It Make You If You Try To Be Your Crush's Wingman But Realize That Your Crush Has a Crush on You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly as the chapter title says...?

“…so that’s how you pull off the ‘Have you met Lance?’. 60% of the time, it works every time.”

“Lance, can you go five minutes without referencing memes or pop culture?” Hunk says in exasperation.

Keith’s features are screwed up in confusion.

“He doesn’t understand those references,” Pidge supplies. It is helpful to literally no one–she smirks because she just pointing out the obvious to be a little shit.

“Whatever. C’mon Keith, she’s walking this way!”

Purple eyes go wide and apprehensive as Lance physically drags him toward this planet’s equivalent of a bar. The humanoid alien approaches from the opposite side. Lance gives him a pointed nudge toward the tall, bright pink extraterrestrial and Keith stumbles forward.

“Greetings, red paladin,” it says through some weird mind-linky business that just creeps Keith the fuck out, to be quite frank. The alien has a sorta human-ish face, with green jewel-like eyes and silvery scales above them that act somewhat like eyebrows. Its voice is soothing and pleasant, but in the kind of way that having anesthetic injected into your spine might be–there’s a super invasive quality to it, and it makes Keith shudder.

He tries to school his expression into something open and welcoming, but judging by Lance’s ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-me?’ glare, he’s doing a pretty piss-poor job.

“Uh… greetings. Have, um… have you met… er, Lance?”

He sweeps his arms in a wide arc to present the blue paladin, who quickly rearranges his ‘oh-my-God-you-have-failed-me-I-will-end-you’ look into a smarmy grin.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says with a wink, turning the smolder up to approximately one million and three.

The alien makes a tinkly sound that crawls like a bajillion tiny bugs’ legs under Keith’s skin. He isn’t able to suppress how he balks at the sensation of the telepathic link to which he did not give express consent.

“Is something wrong, red paladin?”

Keith clears his throat under Lance’s scrutiny. “Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing. Just, um, yeah, you’ve met Lance now. He’s uh… great?”

Lance elbows Keith harshly in the side and laughs nervously, one hand scratching at the back of his neck.

This is going just  _swimmingly_.

The alien’s face just… doesn’t move. It’s weird. It doesn’t really have facial features that can show amusement, but that’s the emotion that pours over Keith’s head like a water balloon bursting and dripping along all his hair follicles. Urgh…

“Oh, I have heard many things about the great deeds of the paladins of Voltron,” the alien says straight into their brains. It’s just as uncomfortable as having a stranger whisper something WAY too close to your ear when you’re least expecting it.

Lance’s eyes are bulging a bit, as if he’s trying to slap Keith with his eyeballs. Keith can take a hint, he’s not THAT dense…

“Oh but I mean, Lance. Specifically. Is, er, great.”

The alien tilts their head-part to the side with a strange rolling movement that makes Keith feel a bit nauseous. Is Lance really trying to pick this alien up? Well, Keith had to hand it to him, the blue paladin certainly wasn’t completely shallow…

“He uh… he’s loyal. To a fault, sometimes. I mean, not to a fault-fault, he’s um… great, right?” Oh, great start, Kogane. Lance drags a hand down his face, and Keith licks his lips nervously before barrelling on. “He’s an incredible shot, I’ve never seen anyone so deadly precise. And he’s a real hero, okay? He would sacrifice himself to save a stranger without even thinking about it, because that’s the way he is. He loves harder than anyone I’ve ever met, which, I guess, is not that impressive because I’m… but I mean, that’s amazing, because I never thought it was possible to love people  _so much_ , you know? And I really never thought I’d ever feel that way about someone, either, but when we’ve just gotten back into the castle after almost dying, he’s the one person I’d want to see most. I thought it’d be Shiro, since before all this, he was probably the most important person in my life, but Lance is honestly the first one that comes to mind.”

He’s not really controlling what’s coming out of his mouth anymore, and he doesn’t dare look at Lance. He just hopes that this is what Lance wanted and that whatever happens, he’ll be happy.

“And Lance sings, too, and sometimes it makes me want to strangle him but he’s seriously really good. He sounds amazing. He dances too, when he feels like he’s surrounded by enough people that no one’s paying attention to him, but he’s pretty awesome at that too. He takes really good care of his skin, so he always smells nice. That’s… nice.”

The alien is still peering curiously at him. When is he allowed to stop?

“Um… he also always makes Pidge feel better when she misses her family, which I’m really grateful for because he’s sensitive to what other people need and he somehow knows how to fulfill it. He’s good at taking care of people. And listening. And he always prioritizes the rest of us before himself, because somehow it makes him happy that we’re okay? That’s amazing.”

He finally allows himself to look at Lance. The blue paladin’s face is blank. He swallows.

“He’s… amazing?”

It wasn’t meant to come out as a question, but it does and Keith mentally kicks himself for it. He was trying to sell this whole wingman act but he panicked and just went with the truth. Honesty was the best policy, right?

It’s silent for a really long time. Keith shifts his weight from foot to foot, staring down at the floor. He’s fucking terrible at this wingman thing, why the hell did Lance bring him along?!

“Holy shit,” Lance breathes from beside him. Keith’s eyes snap up to his face but quickly fall back down to the expanse of marble-like extraterrestrial rock between his feet. He doesn’t register the way Lance is looking at him.

The alien makes a “hm” sound in their minds that feels way too knowing. It walks away.

Keith is a failure.

“Lance, I’m shitty at this, I don’t know why you–”

“To make you jealous, dipshit,” Lance cuts in. Keith blinks at him.

“What?”

“I asked you to be my wingman so you’d be jealous of me making the moves on the  _aliadies_ ,” Lance explains, and Keith wants to wrap his head around that but, “Did you actually just combine ‘alien’ and ‘ladies’ into one word?”

Lance shoots finger guns at him. Keith hates himself for how frantically it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

How is this his life?

“You’re an idiot.”

Lance grins and snakes an arm around Keith’s shoulders. His cheeks are flushed and damn, it’s pretty. Lance is so fucking attractive.

“Can I be your idiot?”

Blue, blue eyes burrowed right into Keith’s core.

“Uh… yeah?”

“Why do you keep turning statements into questions?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Oh my God, Keith…”

“Do you actually want to…? With me?”

Lance moves closer so the tips of their noses are touching, and he looks like he just has one giant cerulean eye with happy crinkles on both sides.

“Ever since you flew us to your desert shack on your hoverbike and I was either swooning really hard or my guts were literally trying to leave my body because of your risky fucking flying.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” Keith huffs defensively.

Lance laughs and grabs each of Keith’s hands in his own.

“So do I.”

Keith curses all the powers that be for his fair complexion because he can tell that Lance is fucking  _thrilled_  that he’s blushing.

“So,” Lance whispers after a few stuttering heartbeats, “have you met Lance?”

Keith laughs into the kiss that Lance swoops in and plants on his lips.

“Yeah. He’s a fucking idiot.”

“Hey!”

* * *

The alien watches from across the crowded celebration hall. How could humans be so oblivious and still be a viable species?  
  
“So, you met the paladins?”  
  
“They’re kind of dimwitted.”  
  
“The green and yellow ones were able to repair our glimrax though.”  
  
“…Perhaps this kind of stupidity is specific to the red and blue one, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe that while Keith is not the type of person to spill his guts to people or anything but I also think he’d be the type to sort of splutter and ramble when he’s really anxious, so… voila, zero verbal filter when he’s under pressure.
> 
> PS: This is a moment when you run out of ideas to write your daily Klance fics for Lance month and the bae comes in clutch! ;) <3


	5. Giddy-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got an anonymous Tumblr request  
> "Can you write a fic about Lance being turned into a child and having an obsession with pulling Keith's hair?"

“Holy fucking shit,” Pidge said. Shiro, eyes just as wide and shocked as hers, cupped a hand over her mouth and hissed, “Language!”

“Aw, look at him!” Hunk cooed, surging forward and gathering up the pile of blue armor and itty bitty child. The little boy cocked his head to the side curiously, impossibly blue eyes wide and full of wonder.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk sing-songed.

Shiro and Pidge swallowed thickly and shared a significant look.

“How the hell are we gonna tell Keith?”

“Pidge,  _language_.”

* * *

“Hi Keith!” little Lance shrieked with laughter as Hunk deposited him on Keith’s shoulders. He immediately flopped over the top of Keith’s head to press a sloppy kiss to the red paladin’s hairline.

“Don’t freak out,” Hunk warned, supporting Lance’s back with one of his hands. Keith stood stock-still, frozen in shock.

“What–?”

Lance sank his hands into Keith’s hair and gave it a forceful tug.

“C’mon! Giddy-up, cowboy!”

It seemed to break the spell over Keith, who grabbed onto Lance’s knobbly knees over his collarbones and glared up at the cherubic face.

“Ugh, I should never have told you I’m from Texas,” he grumbled, but couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. He took off running through the hangar and Lance’s innocent, carefree giggling absolutely melted his heart. Tiny sun-browned toes wiggled in delight as they dangled over Keith’s chest. The devil-child continued to use Keith’s hair as reins, but he could never have convinced any of his teammates that he actually minded.

* * *

“We’ve figured out how to change him back,” Coran announced triumphantly. Keith frowned as he watched Lance sleep, small body curled up tight against his chest. Little Lance’s long eyelashes fanned out against rounder, fuller cheeks, completely lax in sleep. His lips were softly parted and he looked completely at peace.

Lance mumbled in his slumber, shuffled closer to Keith, and tucked his face into the nape of Keith’s neck. One of his hands wandered up and buried itself into Keith’s hair.

Despite the stinging in his scalp, Keith felt the tug on his heart much more acutely.

“Do we really have to change him back?”

“We don’t know what would happen if we don’t try now,” Allura said gently.

Keith gingerly stroked the pad of his thumb over the smooth, soft skin at Lance’s temples.

* * *

Lance woke up with joints and gangly limbs akimbo and a crick in his neck stiffer than his morning woo–well, he was certainly uncomfortable as fuck, and one of Keith’s knees was digging into his ribs.

He groaned and tried to maneuver himself out of the tangle of arms and legs to no avail. He sighed and shifted a little, combing his fingers through Keith’s hair. A wicked grin overtook his features as he gave the soft ebony tresses a solid yank.

“Ow, fuck!”

Keith jerked away but they were still too hopelessly intertwined for him to get far. He blinked up at Lance blearily.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Lance greeted him glibly.

“Morning,” Keith breathed, expression a complex mixture of relief and disappointment. He traced the sharp angle of his boyfriend’s cheekbone with his fingertips.

“Hey, cowboy, just because I’m taller than you again doesn’t mean we can’t keep having fun.” Lance grabbed onto a handful of Keith’s hair, giving it a slight twist in his fist. Keith winced but Lance could tell it was mildly exaggerated. Lance dug his heels into whatever yielding flesh was closest within range, trying to spur his boyfriend out of their awkward arrangement on the too-cramped sofa.

“Come on, giddy-up!”

“LANCE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh this was my first (and only, thus far) Tumblr fic prompt to date :D


	6. Cold Plates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short angst written from my call-room while still trying to do daily drabbles for Lance's birth month in 2017...

Lance comes home late. It isn’t that unusual, and most of the time he still manages to beat Keith home since his significant other is an insane workaholic (”pot, meet kettle”).

When they first returned to Earth, everything was weird. Suddenly the planet of their origin felt like the most alien of all the worlds they had encountered because everything that used to be familiar seemed like it had been experienced in another life altogether. They all had rocky transitions back to peaceful times–suddenly, the galaxy didn’t need them to fight a war, and they realized that maybe there wasn’t anything else they could remember how to do.

Pidge was able to bring her father and brother back to her mother. Hunk went back to his own family. Shiro slowly re-introduced himself to a mother who had grieved his death half a decade ago.

Lance was welcomed back to his own family, the prodigal son celebrated in ways he felt he didn’t deserve. He brought Keith with him, and his Mama kissed both of Keith’s cheeks over and over.

“Thank you for keeping him safe,” she said.

Keith didn’t know what to say, so he awkwardly kept silent.

Eventually, the attention was stifling; Lance couldn’t stand the way his siblings would look like they’d seen a ghost anytime they happened to walk in on him sitting at the kitchen table. He couldn’t deal with the way his nieces and nephews were unable to reconcile the Uncle Lance that babysat them with the scarred and haunted man in their living room.

It broke his heart that his parents wanted so desperately to love him but he wasn’t the same son to them anymore.

Keith was the one to suggest they move into a small apartment of their own, close enough to visit daily if they wanted but in a separate space to give them some much-needed distance. It worked.

Until it didn’t.

Keith picked up a job, and so did Lance. They completed college courses in the evenings so they could do something useful with their lives–Lance earned a teaching degree and Keith became a registered nurse. They both worked long hours, and hardly saw each other outside of sleeping in the same bed.

So tonight, Lance comes home late. He can’t remember the last time he said more than “good morning” and “good night” to Keith in any given day. The last year feels like a haze of mediocrity, routine painted in shades of gray in his mind.

He toes off his shoes. All the lights are off, so he figures he’s beaten Keith home (again).

He pads along the hallway and pokes his head into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a beer–he really hopes to sleep well tonight.

A slight rustle comes from a little deeper in the apartment. He tenses. The sound doesn’t come again–perhaps he imagined it?

He moves to their tiny dining table and freezes.

There are two candles burned to lumpy stumps of melted wax (they were two different colours and shapes at some point, but now they actually looked pretty similar). Two servings of food are set on the table, long since gone cold. Each setting has what looks like a bowl of homemade black bean soup and a plate with some sort of stir fry. Keith doesn’t know how to cook too many things, but he works wonders with the random array of veggies in the fridge at the end of the week. The soup must be a recipe out of his family’s old cookbook that Lance had thrust upon him when they moved out. His heart stutters in his chest.

But most astonishing, perhaps, is the slumped figure sitting at the opposite end of the table. One pale hand is just a twitch away from sending the bowl of soup tumbling to the ground.

“Hey,” he murmurs gently, running his hands up Keith’s arms, squeezing his shoulders, and sliding them back down to his elbows.

Keith startles, but Lance catches the bowl before it can meet the end of the table. He blinks up owlishly at Lance.

“Hey,” he croaks. His hair is sticking up and out all over the place. He’s very long overdue for a haircut–it hasn’t looked this much like a mullet since they were sixteen and launched out into space.

“Sorry I missed this,” Lance says, sweeping his arm over the meal spread out on the table.

Keith doesn’t look back at the table. His eyes don’t leave Lance’s face.

“I missed you,” he whispers, and it sounds so much more raw than it should. Lance smiles and pretends his eyes aren’t filling with tears.

“I missed you too.”

He leans down to press a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth. Keith pulls him into his arms.

“Stay?”

Lance pulls out the chair next to Keith’s. It’s almost midnight. They both have work in the morning.

“Pass the salt, sweetheart?”


	7. Don't Let Me Drown...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lifeguard!AU that doesn't go how Lance wanted or expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble contains some Shiro/Matt in case that bothers anyone.

“Pidge, Pidge, listen to me. I need you to pretend to drown.”

Pidge spat out her mouthful of lemonade in a spray that only barely missed Lance’s face.

“What the fuck?” she spluttered.

Lance pulled his sunglasses off the top of his head to check them for lemonade splatter before replacing them and tousling his hair over them.

“I need you to pretend to drown.”

Hunk looked 110% skeptical of Lance’s ingenuity and Lance would be insulted but he’s still too busy ogling the hot lifeguard across the pool from the corner of his eye.

“Lance, I really don’t think that’s a safe–”

“Trust me, big guy, this plan is perfect. Pidge will go in and pretend to drown and shit, then I’m gonna jump in like a fucking hero and drag her out. Then I’ll put her on the deck and be all “everyone clear out! Give her some space!” and hot lifeguard dude will be so impressed with the speed of my response and he will definitely fall in love with me.”

“You want my sister to risk her life to be your inanimate wing-person?” Matt said incredulously.

“Well, I mean, she’s gonna be totally safe. I’m the–”

“–closest that Cuba’s ever gotten to a Michael Phelps, yeah, we’ve heard this before, McClain-the-almost-Olympian.” Lance pouted as Matt cut him off to finish his statement. “Okay, so it’s not like my sister’s life is in real jeopardy, fish man, but I still don’t like even the possibility of getting her in harm’s way, so I’ll be your wing–er, fin-person.”

Lance’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline.

“Oh my God, man, you’d do that for me?!”

“Well, no. I’d do it for Pidge, because I know you’d somehow guilt or challenge her into actually going along with your crap.”

Lance dragged Matt into the best rendition of a bone-crushing Hunk-hug he possibly could. The elder Holt let out a breathless “oof!”.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not a fish man–no gills, just skills!”

Matt laughed and cuffed Lance in the shoulder.

“Sure, buddy.“

* * *

Yeah, that totally did not go according to plan. Instead of the heroic rescue Lance was envisioning (which would have been a million times easier if it had been Pidge’s tiny frame rather than Matt’s much taller and considerably bulkier one), somehow Matt’s overly-convincing flailing limbs (didn’t he know that drowning people were usually a lot more… still?) managed to catch Lance across the face, stunning him long enough to send him under. Normally Lance could shake it off and get back up for air, but in the panic Matt’s scene was causing, there were a bunch of pool patrons rapidly trying to flee the scene. Lance ended up getting buffeted by legs and arms of all shapes and sizes, and started to get seriously concerned he wasn’t gonna be able to come up for air. Finally, his vision started to blur as his lungs burned for oxygen and an arm curled around his chest, this time guiding him toward the air rather than further underwater.

As soon as his head broke the surface Lance coughed and choked on a massive gulp of air, his air-starved brain too addled to prioritize between clearing out the water or sucking in the precious, precious oxygen. He ended up inhaling about two-thirds water with that breath and couldn’t seem to cough it back out.

Next thing he knew, he was being lain out on the rough concrete of the pool deck and there were hands poised over his breastbone–

“WAIT! KEITH, STOP!”

The hands paused and Lance blinked rapidly, trying to clear the dark spots from his vision. He looked up at his savior, and holy fucking shit, hot lifeguard dude was fucking gorgeous. And wet. And currently touching Lance’s bare chest over his hammering heart.

“The guy’s breathing, I think he’s just shocked. He’s got a pulse, he’s gonna be okay.”

Whoa, hot lifeguard dude’s friend, buff lifeguard dude, was also pretty hot. And super buff.

“Oh God, Shiro, he started choking once I got him out of the water, then went limp and unresponsive–”

“Hey, hey, I know, it’s okay.” Buff lifeguard dude’s hands closed over hot lifeguard dude’s wrists to help him stop his hands from shaking. Lance decided breathing would be a good thing to get the hang of right at that moment.

He coughed and hacked violently for a bit until he finally took in his surroundings. Matt was sitting not far from him, also dripping wet and looking mildly horrified but otherwise fine. Pidge was at her brother’s side, white as a ghost. Hunk was hovering behind them, wide, terrified eyes on Lance.

Both hot lifeguard dude and buff lifeguard dude were staring at him too.

Lance realized he should say something smooth and intelligent.

“Wow, dickwad, you didn’t even do a pulse check before attempting to break my fucking ribs?”

Ah, yes. Lance was the epitome of suave and charming.

Hot lifeguard dude went red–from rage or embarrassment, Lance had no idea.

“I just saved your life!” he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. Buff lifeguard dude had to back off a few inches to avoid getting socked in the face. “I mean, you were unresponsive for thirty seconds, I figured you needed chest compressions just like any other unconscious choking person!”

Oh, right, he was technically choking on water.

“Yeah, well maybe I just wanted some mouth-to-mouth, okay?” he retorted.

Wait. Shit.

Hot lifeguard dude was red before, but now he was… really red.

Lance fumbled to sit up properly as they guy finally said, “But… that’s not… how CPR works? We start with chest compress–”

“I’m a paramedic, I know how fucking CPR works,” Lance interrupted. Hot lifeguard dude’s mouth clicked shut. He was really fucking cute, dammit. “I also know your ass looks amazing in those red trunks and I’d love for you to show me how  _that_  works.”

If Lance didn’t know better about human physiology, he would’ve assumed hot lifeguard dude was a few seconds away from spontaneously bursting into flames. The guy scrambled back a few inches, seemingly desperate to put a bit of space between them.

Okay, ouch, he didn’t mean to cause that much anxiety or anything.

“Hey, hey, no need to be a flustered mess. We can try this again.” He scooted forward a bit, watching hot lifeguard dude’s reactions very carefully. Dark indigo ink eyes tracked his advance warily, but he didn’t move any further back.

“Hi, I’m Lance. Wanna grab dinner with me and then watch Netflix in our jammies?”

“I’m Keith,” hot lifeguard dude said gruffly, thrusting out his hand. Lance shook it. They were both still wet from the whole nearly-dying-in-the-pool thing.

“Also… uh, that sounds… nice?”

Lance just laughed and let hot lifeg–Keith help him to his feet.

* * *

“I cannot believe that actually ended up fucking working,” Pidge said in awe.

Hunk shrugged, “Well, that’s Lance for you. Paramedic by day, and sometimes night, or whatever comes in between, and future Olympian in his spare time.”

Matt rolled his eyes from where he was sitting on one of the pool benches, toweling his hair dry-ish. “Yeah, so no one cares that I almost drowned?”

Just then, buff lifeguard dude (because seriously, this guy was fucking  _ripped_ ) put a hand on Matt’s shoulder and Matt jumped nearly three feet into the air with a squeaky shriek.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he yelled.

Buff lifeguard dude somehow looked bashful despite his buffness.

“Sorry, I just… I figured you need to get checked out properly, after all that.“

Matt’s eyes narrowed and he waggled his eyebrows in a weirdly Lance-like fashion that scared the shit out of Pidge. “So you’re saying you’re coming over here to check me out?”

Buff lifeguard dude looked stricken before he honest-to-God blushed.

“I’m Shiro,” he said, endearingly awkward as he extended his hand for Matt to shake.

“Matt.”

“What the fuck,” Pidge said.


	8. Mall, but NOT in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klance goes shopping together but Lance wants to go to H&M and Keith is still in Hot Topic.
> 
> (Cute boys shopping and being cute)

This is the fourth “My Little Pony” mug Lance has picked up in the past twenty minutes. That means he’s averaged five minutes per mug. He has stared at the same damn rainbow cartoon ponies for the same amount of time that he usually spends on his face and that is just obscene.

“Keith, can we get the fuck out of here yet?”

A girl next to them browsing the “Nightmare Before Christmas” paraphernalia gives Lance a withering look. He almost flips her off but Keith catches his wrist without even looking at him–how is his boyfriend a freaking  _psychic_?

“Lance, they have the Pop! Vinyls I need to complete my ‘Walking Dead’ collection,” Keith states like it explains everything. Everything being all the time they’ve spent in here that Lance can never get back.

“…Babe, I literally came here just to get a few of those T-shirts on sale at H&M, we did not plan on celebrating our fiftieth anniversary in this godforsaken mall.”

Unamused purple eyes flicker up to Lance’s face and then back down to the three doll boxes Keith cradles in his hands as if they were their firstborn triplet children.

“Says the one who went to the grocery store after we’d been out of milk for three days but got so sidetracked you came back with over a hundred dollars worth of random snack foods and Red Bull and NO MILK?”

“Are you still holding a grudge over that? I was the one who told you we were out in the first place–”

“No, you just turned the cow magnet on the fridge upside-down!”

“Keith, that’s like, universal for “out of milk”!”

“Jesus fu–no, Lance, it’s not. It is just an upside-down cow.”

Lance huffs out an angry puff of air.

“Fine, whatever. What is taking you so long to decide on, anyway?”

“They have Daryl in two different versions.”

“Oh my God, can you just get all three then? I just wanted my goddamn T-shirts…”

“…But I only have one of each of the other characters, I don’t want them to think I like Daryl better than them…”

“Keith,  _mi amor_ ,  _mi corazón_ ,” he sandwiches Keith’s cheeks between his hands and smooshes them together a little as he brings his boyfriend’s eyes up to meet his, “if you don’t just pick one and get us out of here, I am going to strangle you.”

Keith pouts and fuck, that’s not fair, with his cheeks squished like that he looks absolutely adorable. Lance has to remain firm and stand his ground.

“Okay,” he mutters, and reluctantly puts away one of the stupid vinyl dolls and looking so stricken Lance feels like he just forced Keith to pick which one of his children he would offer up as a human sacrifice.

Crumbling into a weak, spineless pile, Lance grabs the doll back off the shelf and shoves it into Keith’s arms.

“I’ll get the second Daryl for you, and you can keep him on my side of the room as if he’s mine so the rest of your damn zombie collection won’t get jealous, Christ.”

Keith’s whole face lights up and Lance is  _weak_.

Later, Keith ends up paying for Lance’s four T-shirts, jacket, V-neck sweater, faux-suede shoes, two blazers, and bermuda shorts at H&M (okay, yes, he is weak for sales too. How is he supposed to say no to such a good deal?). Lance presses a kiss to Keith’s temple and giggles into a few stray hairs at the nape of his neck that escaped his little ponytail.

“Not a word,” Lance warns with his finger pressed to Keith’s smirking lips.

“We’re still out of milk, you know.”


	9. Scientifically Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school!AU in which Lance tries to pick up his chemistry partner and many reactions ensue.

How was all this supposed to work again?

Lance fiddled with the Bunsen burner, hoping he wouldn’t blow anything up in the process.

“You’re supposed to turn the gas on first, genius,” came a cranky voice to his left. His eyes flicked off to the side and he finally noticed his lab partner slinking into class late, hunched over and looking like he was trying to disappear behind the lab bench.

“You’re supposed to show up for class on time,  _genius_ ,” Lance bit back. Well, they were off to a great start.

The mysterious lab partner had no retort to that, opting to scoff just loudly enough for only Lance to hear.

“Hey, fuck you, buddy–” Lance’s eyes finally landed on the guy sitting next to him, and holy fucking shit, he was  _pretty_. Sure, he was scowling and he was giving off “stay the hell away from me” vibes like he had to supply enough for the entire universe, but his skin was like porcelain and his eyes were the most beautiful violet Lance had ever seen.

Lance hadn’t even realised he trailed off until a dark eyebrow arched upward in confusion. “Yeah?” the guy challenged.

Lance cleared his throat and got the Bunsen burner lit. “Well, would ya look at that? You lit my fire.” He waggled his eyebrows at his lab partner, whose expression grew increasingly puzzled.

“Huh?”

“So, you come here often?” Lance tried to assume some kind of casual posture and only succeeded in almost igniting his elbow. He cleared his throat again and leaned a little closer to his lab partner, who was already attempting to ignore him and focus on following their lab instructions. He started mixing the solutions that needed to be heated.

“Uh, this is our first class, so…”

“Right. So uh, you must be a hypotonic solution.”

The dark-haired boy stared at him blankly, beakers poised motionless in his hands.

“‘Cause, y’know, you’ve just increased my turgor pressure,” he finished with a wink.

“Uh, I think we should focus on the lab here. We’re supposed to identify the anions based on–”

“Boy, don’t you worry, I’ll be keeping anion your fine behind!”

By now, there were some mildly interested twitters from their classmates, who clearly had nothing better to do than eavesdrop on the conversation. Lance could feel the way Hunk and Pidge failed at containing their snickers from halfway across the lab. Traitors. If only Garrett and Gunderson could’ve been closer to McClain in the alphabet, then maybe Lance could’ve had one of them for a lab partner and not this cute but prickly kid with bad hair and a nice face.

Who was totally not going for any of Lance’s advances…

“Uh, I… thought we were just gonna mix these solutions, get the reactions going, aim for an A and leave?”

Lance waved a flippant hand in the guy’s direction.

“Sure, babe, but I think you’ve already got some reactions going in my–”

“LANCE!” Shiro warned with a harsh note of exasperation from the bench behind them. Oh, right, Shiro was their upper year student tutor for the class, and he was sitting  _right there_ supervising them all while their chemistry teacher popped out of the room to replace… stuff.

“Relax, Shiro, I’m just making friends! See, this guy–”

“Keith.”

“See, Keith and I–wait, your name is Keith? What kind of name is that?”

His lab partner crossed his arms defensively and frowned, curling into himself and looking like he regretted supplying his name in the first place. “I don’t know, it’s not like I picked it.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, Keith and I are just science bros. You know, we get some chemistry going on, then I invite him over later to do some hardcore physics with our biology–”

Shiro opened his mouth, probably to reprimand Lance again, but they both froze at the sound filling the room. It was laughter, kind of rough and perhaps unused, but melodic and lovely all the same.

Keith was _laughing_.

 _Lance_  did that. He couldn’t help puffing up a little at the thought.

“Oh my God, you… I can’t believe…” Keith gasped out between guffaws. Lance winked at him.

“It’s okay to be breathless, I have that effect on people.”

Keith swatted at his arm but stopped himself short of actually making contact. “You’re such a  _moron_!” he cried, but he was still laughing and his eyes were watering a little, drops of moisture catching the light on his long, dark eyelashes. Lance’s heart rate picked up more than he’d like to admit.

“Now can I be your derivative so I can lie tangent to your curves?”

Keith rolled his eyes but he was still smiling as he poured another carefully-measured reagent into their test tube over the Bunsen burner.

“Maybe you should consider being co-linear so you can just touch me all over?”

If Lance had anything in his mouth, he would have had an incredibly unfortunate spit-take. As it was, Shiro looked positively  _scandalized_ and it made a wicked sense of glee rise up in Lance’s chest.

“So after school today, I think we have a lot of  _bonding_  to do, don’t you?”

Keith looked away coyly but Lance could see the colour staining his cheeks. His already inflated ego was blooming at the sight.

Pidge and Hunk could be heard groaning from their lab bench. Pidge was staring at their precipitate as if contemplating drinking the nasty chemical sludge to spare her Lance’s antics. Hunk was rubbing patient, soothing circles on her back.

Shiro finally barked out, “McClain, Kogane! Detention this afternoon. DO NOT show up together, and keep your damn hands to yourselves!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking loved high school science. Math I was not as fond of, but I still enjoyed some classic calculus humour. I imagine that Keith would probably not be super warm on initial meetings but he’d crack under Lance’s antics (I mean, who wouldn’t? He’d be the cutest class clown) sooner or later. Maybe it doesn’t seem 100% in character, but that’s the beauty of an AU–we get to explore characterization in settings that allow the same character to follow a different path and perhaps the influences from their environment can really shape their final character development and relationships with other people.
> 
> Lance is the cutest nerd. He may not get the highest marks, but what matters is how much he engages with stuff and how much fun he has with it. <3


	10. Under the Radar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they attempt to sneak around but they're obvious AF

“Shut up! They’ll hear you!”

“Aw, Keith, you wound me… I think you need to give me mouth-to-mouth so I don’t die.”

“Oh my God, Lance!”

“I’m flattered you think I’m your God.”

“Ugh, you’re such an idiot!”

“I’m your idiot.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“I know you wanna.”

* * *

Hunk looked from one member of the team to the next, not sure if he should actively try not to listen, or…?

“So, are we gonna just listen to them make out for half an hour? Cuz like, I’ve got a million better things to do right now.”

“I agree with Hunk, but all my equipment is in there and I don’t really wanna be scarred for life by opening the door.”

“Pidge, I  _did_  tell you to knock first…” Shiro frowned.

Pidge shrugged noncommittally. “I dunno, they would’ve just made up some extra lame excuse for why they were half-naked in the hangar. I figured it was better to just pretend I hadn’t noticed them and get my shit done.”

“I can’t believe they still think we don’t know,” Allura mused. Coran rolled his mustache between his thumb and forefinger.

“They must think that the castle walls and doors are sound-proof.”

“The mice have figured out how to censor all the security feeds, at least,” Pidge said with a giant proud grin. She gave each of the mice a high-five in turn.

Shiro just sighed and massaged his temples.

“We can just forego formation training today. It’s not worth it.”

Hunk held up his palms in a “what-can-ya-do?” gesture. 

They were all about to turn and walk away when Keith and Lance stumbled through the doorway, hands fisted in each other’s hair and clothing, lips bruised and telltale red marks sucked into their collars.

They stared at the team wide-eyed in alarm before springing seven feet apart as if they were repellent magnets.

“So… yeah! You’re… an asshole!” Lance stammered in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at Keith with his face steadily reddening. Keith just crossed his arms and turned away, shoulders coming up around his own pink ears.

“Yeah well… you started it!” Keith hissed half-heartedly.

Hunk’s eyes rolled heavenward and he scooped Pidge up with one arm, walking away. Coran and Allura just shook their heads. Shiro dragged a hand down his face.

“Can you guys… at least… not do that where everyone can see you?”

Lance looked panicked, eyes immediately darting up to Shiro’s unamused expression.

“Do… what? You mean… fight? Like we’re doing? Fighting?” he said, bordering on hysterics.

“Sure. That. Fighting. Just… do it somewhere we won’t find you, okay?” Shiro tiredly walked off to go… well, he had nowhere to go, specifically, except away from his exasperating teammates.

“So… uh… wanna fight me somewhere private?” Lance finally said when they had all cleared out. He risked a sideways glance at Keith, waggling his eyebrows.

Keith scowled darkly but crushed his mouth to Lance’s. “Then fight me.”


	11. Bake Me a Boyfriend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klance tries to bake shit and somehow they become boyfriends

Lance has no idea how Hunk does it.

The yellow paladin has a way of making culinary art look effortless–Lance, on the other hand, has a way of making his culinary efforts look artless.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to put that much in there?” Keith inquires with a dark brow raised.

Lance lets out a string of nonsensical sounds followed by, “You just let the master work and continue to  _seppuku_  those space strawberries.”

“You’re definitely not using that word correctly.” Keith rolls his eyes but goes back to carefully slicing the juicy blue alien fruits with the precise little strokes of his knife. Every piece is flawless, and Lance can’t help but stare at the cyan staining Keith’s pale fingertips and fantasizing about sucking the colour off of them–

 _Back to the matter at hand_ , Lance whisks the batter furiously and prays his face isn’t turning as red as it feels like it is.

“Should you be mixing like–”

“ _What did I say about letting the master work_?!”

Keith’s lips twitch into a tiny frown.

“Okay, fine, destroy the cake then.”

“Hey! If you think you could do better then be my damn guest!”

“I don’t think your delicate pride could handle it,  _master_!”

Their faces are so close Lance can feel each angry huff of air from Keith’s slightly parted lips, downturned in a scowl complete with his harshly slanted eyes and tight brow. Those lips are just slightly tinted purple from their shopping trip earlier that day, taste-testing random extraterrestrial produce until they found the closest match for strawberries.

Ugh, Lance can’t take it anymore. He launches himself forward, flinging the bowl of batter in the general direction of the counter and burying an Altean flour-substitute-coated hand in Keith’s hair. Keith responds just as hungrily, like they’re fighting a battle but the blows exchanged are between their mouths and not their fists. This suits Lance  _just fine_  as he eagerly kisses back, his other hand slipping up the hem of Keith’s shirt to fondle the soft skin covering his sculpted abs.

“We,” he swipes his tongue into Keith’s mouth, “are,” nips at his bottom lip, “gonna,” presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Keith’s neck, “make,” revels in the strangled involuntary moan that escapes Keith’s throat, “the,” noses at the back of Keith’s ear, “best,” drags his teeth along the red paladin’s earlobe, “damn,” traces the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue, “cake,” blows a short puff of air over Keith’s wet skin and savours the shiver that runs down his spine, “ever.”

Keith pulls away, pupils blown so wide they act as black holes consuming the purple irises Lance is used to staring into. His tongue darts out to chase the taste of Lance on his lips, and it gives Lance  _chills_.

* * *

The cake is horrendously burnt. Lance and Keith grin madly at each other over their semi-successful second attempt, lopsided but painstakingly covered in the closest thing they could get to whipped cream with sliced space strawberries beautifully splayed across the top and sides like blooming flowers.

Pidge created the card that goes with the cake, a really colourful “Congratulations Hunk and Shay!” on paper that she found somewhere. They all signed with their best wishes for their friends’ relationship now that it was finally made official.

”Hunk has a  _girlfriend_ ,” Lance sobs into Shiro’s shoulder as Keith balks and Pidge groans, bracing herself for the inevitable blowout.

“I’m  _right here_ , asshole,” Keith hisses.

Lance turns his face from Shiro’s sleeve, head still resting on their leader’s shoulder.

“Is this your way of confessing your undying love to me, mullet?”

“What?”

“You wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah–I mean, wait, you–what???”

“Great!” Lance snakes a sticky, batter-splattered arm around Keith’s equally sticky waist and presses a sloppy kiss onto his cheek. Keith turns so red so fast Lance can swear he can smell the batter cooking on Keith’s skin.

“So… can someone who’s not us please make us a congratulatory boyfriending cake too? Please?”

Hunk just shakes his head and laughs.

“Sure, buddy,” he concedes, eyes shining with happiness and gratitude as he crushes both Keith and Lance in a hug.

Lance grins brightly and nudges Hunk with an elbow. “Guess we’re both dating aliens now, huh, big guy?”

“LANCE!!”


	12. The Final Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never write crack, but I tried.

Of all the shitty situations Lance could possibly imagine himself getting into, this was… not one of them.

“Aha! I win this hand, Paladins,” Emperor Zarkon grinned menacingly, throwing down a flawless Royal Flush.

“How has he not been bluffing a single time? A single one? The probability of having these kinds of hands consistently for twelve straight games is like… it’s ridiculous. Right? RIGHT? There are five cards per hand, with–”

Lance massaged his temples as he toed off his left sneaker.

“Okay, we get it, Hunk. My brain hurts, can we not deal with combination-permutation mumbo jumbo please?”

Hunk untied his headband and it fluttered sadly to the floor. Keith yanked off one of his gloves with his teeth. Pidge surrendered one of her shoes, too. Shiro discarded his vest-thing, leaving him in his tight-fitting long-sleeved tee.

Zarkon was, of course, still fully dressed in so many layers of ornate robes that he could’ve hidden two to three small children or one Keith under there and they probably would’ve been none the wiser. (Wait, shit, should someone check that? Zarkon could’ve kidnapped children??)

“This is a good game, Paladins. Deal the next round.”

“I can’t believe we’re playing strip poker five-against-one with an evil alien dictator and he’s fucking  _winning_ ,” Keith hissed. Lance patted his bare thigh in consolation but shot him a miserable look when Zarkon’s attention was on his cards.

“Zarkon’s cheating, there’s no way he’s  _not_ ,” he whispered back.

“We’re going to lose the entire universe and our dignity,” Keith sighed. He was sitting in his boxers with a V-neck, one fingerless glove, and his socks. Everyone else was in a similar state, and it was going to get really uncomfortable really fast if they didn’t start getting some good hands. Ugh fucking shit don’t think about hands, don’t think about hands…

“Are you really popping a boner in front of the universe’s mortal enemy?” Keith gasped indiscreetly. Pidge’s eyes shot up and bored through Lance’s heart and soul. Hunk looked scandalized, and Shiro just buried his face in his hands.

“No, Jesus, Keith! Shut up and play.”

“I win again!” Zarkon’s voice boomed, golden pupil-less eyes betraying nothing but a gleam of cold confidence. Lance felt his pulse throbbing in his temples.

“There is no fucking way you’ve won  _again_ ,” he growled, throwing his hand face-up on the table.

Zarkon had a straight flush. The closest anyone got to that was Shiro’s full house.

“You’re a dirty cheater!” Lance shrieked, slamming his hands on the table and standing so abruptly his stool toppled and rolled away.

“You’re accusing an evil overlord bent on universal domination of being a dirty cheater, Lance,” Pidge pointed out blandly.

Lance stood his ground. “Well, I’m not wrong, am I?”

He whirled around only to realize Keith had taken off his shirt and his brain pretty much short-circuited. What? Why? But he still had a glove and two socks?!

“What the hell are you doing?”

Keith shrugged. “I had a losing hand?” His head tilted to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is that… isn’t that the rules?”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Lance fumed, grabbing Keith’s shirt from where he had dropped it onto the floor. He shoved it into Keith’s chest, the other’s arms reflexively coming up to curl around the article of clothing.

“You put that thing on because your nipples are distracting as fuck–” he licked his lips, then rounded on Zarkon. In one fluid motion, he activated his bayard (don’t ask where it was, he’s not proud of it but it achieved its purpose) and aimed it directly between the Galra’s eyes, “and  _you_ … uh, prepare to be defeated, you pervy piece of shit.”

Zarkon stood slowly, purposefully. Shiro’s eyes followed his every move, biotechnologic arm glowing violet in anticipation.

“I see we were unable to settle this peacefully,” Zarkon said slowly, voice dropping to a menacing bass. “That is most disappointing.”

“No, what’s disappointing is that I didn’t get to spend the last half-hour with Keith’s ass in my lap.”

“Oh my God, Lance, now is not the time,” Pidge groaned.

Zarkon turned his back on them and took a few steps away from the round table.

“I see that we must resort to more…  _painful_  means to settle our differences,” Zarkon murmured pensively. By this time, everyone’s bayards were activated and in hand. Lance tried  _really hard_  not to think too much about where everyone else stashed theirs. ‘Hard’ being the operative word. In his pants (or lack thereof, which was not appropriate at all for the situation).

Zarkon heaved a sigh and turned around. His eyes swept over each of them in turn.

“Very well. Prepare to die, Paladins.”

He shoved his stool closer to the table and slammed a red box onto its surface. They all flinched in reaction to the shockwave that went through the table and into the ground underfoot.

The box of “Uno” sat as a herald of suffering between Zarkon and the defenders of the universe.


	13. 69 Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title means nothing other than the fact that this post on Tumblr had 69 notes at the time I was posting it here and I found that humorous :D
> 
> Jealous!Lance because he doesn't want other people looking at his bf-who-is-not-yet-his-bf-but-will-be-for-sure.

“There is not a single detail of this mission that I am even close to being okay with,” Lance declared, pulling Keith into his side just to make a point. Keith sighed and ducked under Lance’s arm to put a little distance between them–the rest of the team was watching too intently for his tastes.

“It’s going to be fine, Lance. Go in, get the magic statue thing–”

“The Goddess Tear,” Allura corrected.

Keith shot her a withering look that she didn’t seem to register. “The magic statue thing.” His eyes caught Lance’s again. “Then get the hell out of there and never look back.”

Lance groaned and covered his face with his hands. “No. No no no, nope, no way, this is insane and I’m not letting you do this. Someone tell him he can’t do this!”

“Actually, it’s the best plan we’ve got,” Shiro said reluctantly. Keith crossed his arms with a triumphant quirk of his lips. Lance sighed.

“Oh my God, you’re going undercover as a space hoe,” he mumbled under his breath.

“The king’s concubines are not prostitutes, Lance,” Pidge spat.

“The king literally keeps these peeps around so he can… peep! On them! All. The. Time.” Lance punctuated each word with a smack of his fist into his open palm.

“Well, some of them just bring him food, which is pretty un-hoe-like, right?” Hunk piped in.

“If Keith is going in wearing that, he is most definitely not just bringing some ancient alien dude a glass of space lemonade,” Lance sneered.

Keith threw up his hands in exasperation. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this, asshole?”

Coran tried to interject, “What’s wrong with the clothes? They’re the traditional garb of the–”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT THOSE ALIENS OGLING YOU IF I CAN’T!” Lance exploded.

The room went stock-still and Lance slowly came back to himself to realize how close his face was to Keith’s. He swallowed slowly.

Keith’s eyes were wide and shocked. If Lance had cared to look at anyone else, they would’ve been in a similar state; but his focus was transfixed on the small space between Keith’s lips, the perfect shape and size for Lance’s.

“You all owe me a hundred GAC,” Pidge stage-whispered. Coran pulled at his mustache in frustration. “I was so sure it’d take them another quintant,” he grumbled. Shiro and Hunk also reluctantly started reaching for their pockets.

“Wait, what? What the fuck are you guys doing?” Lance asked incredulously. Was this really happening? Was this actually his life?

“Good timing, Lance,” Pidge winked, tapping each of Coran, Shiro, and Hunk’s credit-card-like thingies onto her tricked-out phone device. “If you had waited until the end of the mission to confess your undying love, I would be out a hundred imaginary space dollars I don’t have, and Shiro would be heading back to the space mall to buy something likely useless.”

“If I–whaaaaat?”

Hunk shook his head. “Only you would ask someone out by calling them a space hoe.”

“No, I-I mean, I didn’t–huh?!”

“So I suppose I shall be the one to retrieve the Goddess Tear then,” Allura said after Pidge handed her card thingy back.

“If you guys are gonna bang, can you do it in Lance’s room? It’s further away from mine,” the green paladin asked sweetly.


	14. Parents (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My sister and I are weak for parental!klance, so...

“Come on, Takashi, it’s okay… you’re gonna wake your Papa if you keep crying…”

Keith helplessly rocked the tiny human in his arms, cupping the back of the baby’s head in his palm. Takashi’s feathery dark hair tickled the stretches of skin between his fingers.

Takashi continued to wail like it was going out of style.

“You already had a bottle, and I just changed your diaper… help me out here… go back to sleep!” he cooed, the last few words leaving his lips in an exasperated hiss.

Takashi seemed intent on fussing his other father awake. Sure enough, Keith heard the familiar rhythm of Lance’s footsteps approaching the nursery from their bedroom. Keith bit back a curse as he adjusted their son so he was curled a little closer to his chest.

As soon as Lance poked his head into the room, one eye still shut and the other bleary with sleep, Takashi’s crying ceased.

“How did you do that?” Keith breathed incredulously, no longer swaying or rocking to soothe their baby.

“Do wha?” Lance responded, voice a rough and mostly unintelligible whisper. He stumbled into the room and pressed himself against Keith’s back, snaking his arms under Keith’s elbows in a loose hug. He burrowed his face into the nape of Keith’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“You c’n put ‘im down and come back t’bed now,” he mumbled into the warm skin there.

Keith looked down at the now-quiet bundle slumbering peacefully in his arms. His heart lurched.

“But… but look at him,” he said softly. Lance peered over Keith’s shoulder with his lips still pressed to Keith’s skin.

“He’s beautiful,” Lance exhaled, “just like you.”

They stared at their son for a few more minutes, the sunrise lighting the nursery in a hazy glow. Finally, Keith had to stifle a yawn into Lance’s neck and the taller man ushered him toward the crib.

“Y’know he’s just gonna wake us up in another hour,” Lance said wryly as Keith gingerly nestled Takashi on the lion-print sheet.

They lingered a few moments longer before Lance was starting to snore on his feet, limbs going loose against Keith’s back. The younger man chuckled and dropped a kiss in Lance’s hair.

“Okay, let’s go,” he whispered, pushing Lance upright to get him out the door.

As if sensing his father’s heartbeat was too far away, Takashi shrieked in protest as soon as they stepped out of the nursery.

Keith dragged a hand down his face as Lance muttered, “Dammit. I swear, if we had named him after Hunk, he wouldn’t be doing this to us.”


	15. Parents (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of previous parental!Klance, but I am angsty trash and therefore it couldn’t be cute and fluffy this time around, I’m sorry.

They were  _so_  excited to see the baby at the hospital–the mom (a teenager who wanted to finish high school and go on to achieve her dream of being a fashion designer) had wanted to keep the gender a surprise, so they weren’t sure if they were welcoming a little girl or a little boy to their family.

(Of course, that didn’t stop Lance from shopping every single day for the last three months in preparation for Takashi’s younger sibling. Keith was grateful that at least his husband had shown some restraint, though he couldn’t help but melt into a puddle of goo when he saw the tiny orange Chuck Taylor’s printed to look like Disney’s Nemo, complete with asymmetrical fins sewn onto the sides. No, the new baby wasn’t going to actually walk in them or anything, but they were just so adorable… plus, Lance pulled the puppy eyes and Keith just sighed and paid their credit card bill without looking at it.)

On the day of the scheduled induction, they were all packed and ready to head to the hospital. Takashi had picked out a balloon for his new younger brother or sister, and another for his or her mother. He clutched one in each of his chubby toddler fists, and Lance had to beg very creatively in order to get their son to relinquish his hold long enough to wrestle him into his car seat.

They brought bottles, formula, diapers, blankets, towels, sleepers, a few hats, a few pairs of socks, and the tiny pair of Converse sneakers because Lance just couldn’t resist and be a fucking adult for once in his life.

Lance’s phone rang while they were pulling into the hospital parking lot. Keith answered it while Lance scoped out a space.

“Hello?”

His pulse thundered in his throat.

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

Lance cut him a glance as he pulled into the spot, trying not to convey his concern too obviously. Broadcasting anxiety around a toddler was a recipe for disaster.

Takashi was too perceptive to be fooled.

“Tou-chan? Papi, what’s wrong?”

Lance spared Keith another look before turning off the ignition and leaning back toward their son. “Don’t worry kiddo, I’m sure everything will be o–”

“Lance,” Keith said, and his voice was so, so wrong. It came out strangled as Keith’s hand shot out to grip Lance’s sleeve.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Lance warbled out around the massive lump his heart was forming in this throat. He pulled Keith closer and rubbed a few soothing circles over his husband’s back, pulse doubling with every passing second.

Keith pressed his face into Lance’s jacket and handed him the phone.

When they got home, the cradle was still empty but their overnight hospital bag was still full. Lance dropped it listlessly beside the door as he gathered his fractured family in his arms and they sank to the floor in a tangled sobbing mess. Takashi cupped their cheeks in his chubby palms and held the pools of tears against their faces.

They buried her on the following Sunday. It was a beautiful day.

Takashi left the little pair of shoes by her nameplate. The bright orange canvas was worn down by the turning of seasons, but not by the pitter-patter of tiny feet.


	16. Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic!klance for the soul

“You missed a spot,” Lance quipped from across the room, voice echoing in the emptiness. Keith stepped back and swept his hair out of his eyes with the back of his wrist, not noticing the smear of blue paint it left behind on his forehead.

“I don’t see a missed spot,” he griped, adjusting his grip on the paint roller. Lance laughed and shoved him with his pointy, bony hip. It was enough to force Keith to take a step forward to regain his balance, letting the paint roller smudge a thick glob of “Cuban Sea” on his otherwise perfect coat.

“Fuck! LANCE!”

Lance dropped the brush he was using to outline all the edges and corners of the wall and wrapped sticky, tacky fingers around Keith’s elbow to drag him closer. Keith reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into a soft peck on his lips.

“We can do that later. We still have two walls left to paint, honey,” the taller man hummed against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Why are you like this?” Keith groaned, but still jutted his chin up to chase Lance’s mouth as he threatened to pull away. Lance chuckled and pressed back, arms winding around Keith’s waist.

Keith was the one who deepened the kiss, playfully flicking his tongue along the seam of Lance’s lips. Lance licked into Keith’s mouth hungrily, backing the younger up against the–oh shit.

Keith froze in the perimeter of Lance’s arms.

“Did you just–?”

Lance slowly peeled his hands away from where they had been pressed flat and flush against Keith’s painstaking labour. They pulled away from the wall and watched in horror as Keith’s hair and shoulder blades took almost the whole coat of paint with them, flanked by two perfect stamps of Lance’s hands. Keith looked from one of Lance’s blue-covered hands to the other, eyes wide in disbelief and a little desperation.

“Please, please say that didn’t just happen.”

Lance shrugged and grinned sheepishly, closing the distance between them once more. He nuzzled into Keith’s temple (getting more blue on the tip of his nose for his efforts) and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s hairline.

“Um, whoops?”

Keith let out a garbled yell and dropped his face into Lance’s shoulder. Lance took the opportunity to grab Keith’s ass firmly in both hands, feeling the paint transfer onto the fabric with a satisfying crinkly feeling.

“Have I mentioned how hot you look in these overalls?” Lance swiftly attempted to change the subject. Keith just slumped more completely against him. Lance laughed and peeked over the top of Keith’s head to admire his handiwork.

(Later, after repainting that wall amidst many death-glares and finally completing the rest of the room’s colour scheme, they ate pizza while they sat on the floor of their completely barren house, using an overturned packing box as their dining table. They didn’t even have a bed yet.

Keith went to sleep completely exhausted. Lance then pilfered the overalls from Keith’s laundry pile and completed his work of art:

Overlapping the back pockets of the denim were two beautiful handprints with “Property of Lance McClain” written sloppily in more paint between the thumbs. Lance fit his hands over the prints and smiled fondly.)


	17. Fluffy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KITTENS.
> 
> One of the ficlets written for my daily drabbles leading up to Lance's birthday in 2017.

So, no matter what anyone says, none of this was Lance’s fault. Absolutely none of it.

It was not his fault that some  _monster_  left the box on the corner of the street he always passed by on his way home from work. It was not his fault that it was raining, the torrential kind of downpour that fell in sheets that soaked you to the bone in seconds. And it was not his fault that his hearing was impeccable, so he just couldn’t ignore the tiny little “mew” that sank its claws into his heart and refused to let go.

There was absolutely no way that Keith could blame him for taking the box of kittens home with him. He couldn’t just leave them in the soggy cardboard, he wasn’t  _heartless_!

His boyfriend sat opposite him on the living room floor, seven teeny and slightly soggy fluffballs curled in a nest of their softest towels situated between them. One was extra puny and a lot less furry than the others, curled up tight between its brothers and sisters and itty bitty body vibrating with its rapid breathing.

“Babe, come on–”

“No, Lance, we can’t just keep them! They’re so… vulnerable, and we don’t have the time–”

He was cut off by a syncopated chorus of mewling and stopped short, hand frozen mid-reach toward the bundle of terrycloth.

Lance scrutinized Keith’s face for any twitch of his features or change in expression that might reveal what he was thinking.

Finally, Keith buried his face in his hands and blurted, “Oh God, we can’t just get rid of them. We can’t!”

Lance laughed and whooped excitedly. “YES!!” He grabbed Keith’s face and pulled him forward to kiss him within an inch of his life. The kittens meowed in protest from below, and they pressed their foreheads together, grinning down at the new members of their family.

And that was how each person in their friend group ended up with a kitten (even Pidge, who was pretty severely allergic, and had to start getting shots so she could breathe without sneezing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, the classic kitten situation… this time with extra, “can we keep ‘em?” 
> 
> I feel like Lance would love a bunch of kittens for his birthday. He’d just lie on the floor and let them crawl all over him in a swarm and groom him with their tiny pink sandpaper tongues leaving his hair (and eyebrows!) sticking up in random spikes pointing every which way. Keith would take a bunch of pictures on his phone but deny, deny, deny when Shiro finds them later… though he would come really close to taking Shiro’s hand with his phone in his desperation to get it back after Pidge threatens to delete them.


	18. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was supposed to be a slightly angsty "Oh what I'm a firebender" ATLA!AU but nope this happened instead, sorry.

It was a familiar emotion: anger. The way it seared through his veins like magma, burning through every last ounce of reason in his mind until there was nothing left but flames that teased his tongue with its own until the words were coming out of his mouth with all the control and reservation of a forest fire.

He wasn’t sure what he even said, just that he knew he was playing with fire.

Lance’s face crumpled under the onslaught. He curled tighter and tighter into himself, trying to minimize the damage by pulling further away; he had a lot to learn about burning, it seemed. Playing with fire meant that people were going to get burned, and the fire would devour everything it touched until there was nothing left but ashes and cinders.

Keith watched the tears that tried to quell the raging heat to no avail. He watched the one person he loved more than anything be charred to dust that could be scattered on a wayward breeze, and he could still taste the embers behind his teeth.

There was a stunned silence, once the fire had consumed its fill, leaving the devastation and brokenness in its wake. Keith swallowed the last smoldering bit of fury and felt it weigh down his entrails as it cooled.

People got burned when you played with fire–including you.

And when everything is burned away, stripped raw and empty by unbearable pain… well, cold anger feels remarkably akin to remorse. What is anger without its fire?

Guilt.

“Lance, I–you… I didn’t mean any of that, I’m–”

“Save it, Keith,” Lance said coldly (so cold against weeping, blistered wounds).

He turned, still hugging himself as if he could hold the pieces together long enough to avoid crumbling to a pile of soot in front of Keith.

“No, please! Lance! I–”

But there were no words left in a mouth cleansed by fire. Certainly no “I’m sorry”, no matter how badly Keith wished he could say it.


	19. Privileged Facilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!AU... just because.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW-ish shenanigans in the prefect bathroom…   
> FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR UNAUTHORIZED USE OF PRIVILEGED FACILITIES!

“Sneaking into the prefect bathroom was a stupid idea, Lance,” Keith muttered, rolling his eyes as they washed window after window in the greenhouse. Professor Longbottom had even taken points from Gryffindor for their otherwise harmless transgression.

“I just wanted to find the pool in the castle,” Lance griped. “Then Shiro described that bath like it was sculpted by the hands of the gods.”

“But Shiro is a Hufflepuff prefect and is therefore actually allowed to go in there. We were just mistaken for perverted peeping assholes!“

Lance turned from the window he was cleaning with lazy, rhythmic flicks of his wand.

“Hey, I can’t control the fact that I was excited. We got interrupted while we were exploring the finer points of how the merpeeps make out at the bottom of the lake.” He winked salaciously and made a lewd hand gesture that left Keith feeling his cheeks and ears erupt in a flush that dripped down his neck.

“Merlin’s beard! Do you really have to… ugh! You’re ridiculous!” he fumed, more flustered than actually angry but trying his best to pass off the flush as rage. Lance was not fooled.

“Aw, Keith, you know my dick wouldn’t  _leviosa_  for just anyone, right?”

Keith resolutely turned back to his own window. “Tell that to those Ravenclaw prefects.”

Lance snickered. “Allura and her girls were fully checking us out and only told Professor Longbottom on us because we didn’t try to lay any moves on them.”

“Ew! Don’t be disgusting.”

Lance laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek. It was still warm with the blaze of his blush.

“It’ll be a good story to tell at the next Slytherin house party Pidge drags us to.”


	20. Waking Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write a klance drabble per day for all of Lance month in 2017 and some days were evidently better than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sleepy boyfriends + langst + comfort = ?fluff

Insomnia is an old friend of Lance’s. Sometimes it’s the racing thoughts that keep him awake, thinking circles around everything he said to everyone all day and analyzing each word, every tone, every lilt in his voice. Was he too weird? Too forward? Too annoying?

Ugh. He couldn’t turn off the constant replays of the past day, the past week, the past few months… hell, even weird things he regretted saying as a kid would pop up and once they popped they just wouldn’t fucking stop (oh God, and now he was thinking of that time he made a fool of himself in front of his classmates with a Pringles potato chip duckface…).

A neverending spiral of all his worst moments on repeat (basically the complete opposite of a “Greatest Hits” collection), squeezing tighter and tighter up in the spaces between his ribs until it felt like his heart was shoved into his windpipe like a gob of toothpaste. He couldn’t breathe, choking on the pulse racing in his throat.

“What are you doing?” Keith mumbled, barely coherent beside him. Lance pulled his languid body a little closer and Keith shuffled until his cheek was smooshed in the well beneath Lance’s collarbone. He formed a snug warm line against Lance’s side.

“Nothing, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Lance whispered into ebony hair smelling of the alien equivalent of vanilla.

“Your brain is doing the thing,” Keith muttered into Lance’s shirt. He lifted his head, hair flopping over his eyes in disarray, and squinted at the blue paladin.

“Yeah,” Lance admitted quietly, unable to meet Keith’s intense violet gaze.

Keith groaned softly as he rearranged his limbs so he was hovering over Lance, weight supported on his elbows. He used his nose to burrow under the precipice of Lance’s jaw, lips a hairsbreadth away from his boyfriend’s still-racing pulse.

He dropped kisses like a metronome.  _One. Two. Three. Four._  Slow, steady, even. Lance lost count as suddenly the instant replays were flushed out of his head with each press of Keith’s lips.  _One. Two. Three. Four._

Next thing he knew, he woke up to Keith lying on his side and staring at him with wide, luminous eyes.

“Sleep well?” Keith asked, lips sloping into a tiny smirk.

“Eh, I guess,” Lance said, aiming for nonchalant. Judging by Keith’s scowl, he was convincing enough. His facade dissolved as he laughed and dragged Keith against his chest, even though his boyfriend was pouting and acting like a scorned cat.

“Much better,” Lance murmured into the shell of Keith’s ear, and instantly, the other melted into his embrace.

The next time Lance woke up, the only thought on his mind was, ‘ _Damn, I fucking love this asshole._ ’


	21. Solo Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klance college!AU (or "alternate university", as I had once seen it referred to and basically lost my shit laughing). just cuz i find it funny to think about their drunken shenanigans

“Aww, you guys are super cute!” this girl squeals above the music pounding so loudly through the walls Lance is pretty sure his heartbeat is now synchronized with whatever Weeknd song this is. He grins sloppily at her and pulls his boyfriend in a little closer so they’re basically overlapping on the worn-down, oddly-stained couch. He tried not to think too hard on what they could’ve been, since the couch was more stain than upholstery.

Pidge snorts into her green Solo cup. “Don’t let this outward display of socially acceptable affection fool you, they’re actually the worst people ever.”

“Shut it, Pidge,” Keith grumbles from where his face was pressed into Lance’s shoulder. His voice probably would’ve carried a lot more heat if he wasn’t pleasantly tipsy. Right now he just sounds sleepy with a dash of aggravated.

Hunk chokes down his last mouthful of whatever-the-fuck concoction had ended up happening in the punch bowl. “Can we like, not bring up the story of how they met? Why do we always have to talk about that when we meet new people?”

Lance rolls his eyes at his roommate and best friend forever and always. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Besides, you’re the one bringing it up now.”

Hunk grimaces, belatedly realizing his mistake. Lance is right.

Pidge snickers, and the girl sitting across from Lance and Keith perks up. Lance  _thinks_ her name is Nyma, but that was also maybe two drinks ago and he doesn’t expect to see her ever again.

“What’s the story?” she says oh-so-predictably. Lance chuckles and Pidge’s eyes glint with savage glee.

“So, it all started in first year, when we all lived on the same floor of the same res, and someone got Lance super wasted–”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know all that free Jello was spiked?” Lance interrupts indignantly.

Pidge ignores him and barrels on as Hunk covers his face with his hands. “So Lance here thinks it’s a good idea to go streaking down the hallway, and Keith comes out of his room to smack right into him–”

“Pidge, really, why do we have to reiterate this?”

“–so next thing we know, Keith is on the ground with his arms full of Lance, except he’s butt-naked, and Lance starts reaming him out for not watching where he was going–”

“All I wanted to do was head to the pool,” Keith says, voice still muffled in Lance’s shirt. Lance laughs fondly and runs his fingers through Keith’s hair. Nyma (?) twitters at them but neither is paying attention to her.

“–and Hunk is trying to peel his naked roommate off of this total stranger while said total stranger, who’s Keith, in case you forgot, proceeds to turn a shade of red that no one has ever seen on the human skin spectrum since–”

“Ugh, our  _entire floor_  was watching the whole time,” Hunk groans.

“–then finally Lance just passes the fuck out on Hunk, still completely naked, mind you, and Keith? Keith finally decides that he will not be pursuing a major in statue impersonation and uses a fucking Sharpie to write his number on Lance’s chest.”

Nyma looks like she’s not quite sure how to react to that. Thankfully, Shiro comes over to save the day–

“Oh, are we telling people the story about Lance waking up naked in the hallway with a phone number on his chest?”

Hunk lets out a sob and Lance pats his back. Pidge cackles.

Shiro shrugs and flops down on the couch on the opposite side of Keith, pulling the younger boy’s feet into his lap.

“I thought it was clever how he used your areola for the zero.”


	22. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What-if" written post-s1, so basically had no idea what was coming.

They never considered, not even for a second, that being a part of Voltron could possibly extend past Zarkon’s defeat. Subconsciously, they all figured that they’d defeat the dark Galra overlord and Pidge and Keith would give him the Voltron finger (times two) before they dissembled and docked back into the Castle.

What they had not accounted for was the fact that once you eliminated one intergalactic douchebag, another would surely rise to take its place.

“So touching down to Earth was more of a vacation than a homecoming, eh?” Lance’s voice comes through the comms thin and flat.

Keith frowns at Red’s display of the millions of warships ahead of them, no more begrudgingly familiar purple glow.

“Guys, is… is this our lives now? ‘Cause going home was kind of… I mean, do paladins retire? Ever? Is retirement something we can make happen? I think we should re-negotiate the paladin contract.”

Pidge sighs. “Hunk, let’s focus on not dying right now and deal with paperwork later?”

“Yeah, I mean, of course. I’m just saying.”

Shiro’s tone is steady and reassuring as he chimes in, “We saved the entire universe a few months ago, we can deal with a bunch of alien warships. Compared to the fleets Zarkon sent, this is nothing.”

Keith takes out a couple hundred of the smaller ships by tightly weaving through them and letting them crash into one another.

“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “I’m happy I get to fly with you guys again.”

The comm erupts in weird noises his teammates make and Keith almost regrets piping up.

“Aww, Keith! Have you been hiding all these warm fuzzies in your mullet or what?” Lance drawls, and it sounds so  _Lance_  that Keith can only smile helplessly and roll his eyes.

“It’s good to have you all back,” he says instead of the shade he instinctively wanted to throw in Lance’s direction.

There are a few hums of agreement.

“It’s good to be back,” Shiro says with a wink they can all see through the video feed.

So maybe being Defenders of the Universe was a lifetime kind of career… but Keith couldn’t see himself doing anything else with anyone else, anyway.


	23. Long-Term (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some headcanon ranting about cute shit

Give me long-term relationship level shenanigans where Keith and Lance have been together for years to the point that they’ve lived through the honeymoon phase (which was a lot of Lance mooning and Keith trying hard to not to let that adorable fucking sap make him melt in his goddamn mid-calf boots but failing  _miserably_ ), the big fights (because sometimes Keith was too cold to feel how desperately Lance wanted to reach out to him, and his knee-jerk reflex was always to push push  _push_  everything and everyone away when he didn’t know what else to do, and all Lance wanted was to hold him up out of the carnage as everything fell to pieces around them), the long-distance stretches (Jesus, Lance, the galaxy was only a few quintants away and their lions had basically the best video chat service in the universe), and the real talks™ (“So, I love you, okay?” “Um, okay? I love you…. too?” “What the hell, man? Why is that a question?!” “You asked it as a question first!” “Ugh, shut your quiznak and kiss me, you asshole.” They kissed, then, “You actually did ask it as a question fir–” “Oh, fuck you, Keith.”).  
  
Give me long-term Klance/Laith where Lance will just walk up to Keith reading on the couch and roll into his lap for the idle head massage, and Keith will very considerately wait until Lance wakes up to grumble about the giant drool spot plastering his pant leg to his thigh. Give me Keith getting worked up about something and instead of bottling the frustration up as bruises from the gladiator he rants it out to Lance, who is 100% attentive to what his boyfriend is saying but also manages to clean their room, wash the sinkful of dishes, and alphabetize all of Pidge’s “Learn Altean” book things as Keith sort of trails after him, still flailing wildly in his impassioned tirade. Give me the two of them sitting in silence as they do their respective tasks but also subtly play footsie with their socked feet under the table. Give me Lance trying desperately to stay up until Keith is finished training but ends up sprawling out on the floor and Keith has to half-drag and half-carry him to bed while Lance is sleep-delirious and paying Keith super-sweet compliments on how pretty he is and Keith’s face is a literal tomato. Give me Keith feeling so secure in their relationship that Lance works his charm on everything that moves and Keith just smirks at him knowingly and discreetly slips his hand into Lance’s so their palms are pressed together.

Just… long-term Klance/Laith being perfectly imperfect and still fighting and bickering and shit but also being the kind of tender that comes so naturally they aren’t conscious of doing anything soppy until Hunk or Pidge call them out for being an old married couple (and they think it’d be kinda cute to walk around together as old dudes with matching colour-coordinated canes in similar states of balding despite Lance’s obviously superior and less-wrinkled skin).


	24. Long-Term (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...continuation of some aggressively cute headcanon-y ranting

They do this weird thing where one starts singing a song and the other joins in but starts replacing the normal lyrics with ridiculous shit like “in my pants”, “wieners and gonads”, and “rock lobster”. (Hint: it’s usually Lance and it cracks Keith up so badly he’ll sometimes burst out giggling at completely random moments, sometimes breaking a comfortable silence over everyone, and he’s laughing so hard that tears are welling up in his eyes and he can’t even choke out a proper sentence. All anyone gets are snippets and wheezes of “wie-ha- _ners_ ” before they just roll their eyes at the way Lance beams with pride over making Keith lose his shit for seemingly no reason, hours and sometimes days after the original incident.)

Sometimes Keith is just really dense and doesn’t pick up on regular social cues… Lance gets a kick out of trying to rephrase things in a way Keith might understand but Keith will just cock his head to the side with one eyebrow raised and his bottom lip puffed out slightly and Lance can’t help but grab his face, sandwiching his cheeks between his palms, and nose-booping him with his own nose, because, well,  _Keith_.

Lance will purposely ruminate a certain thing or thought–e.g. “Am I boring?”–and will be deliberately stubborn about it when Keith tries to comfort him. “No, Lance, of course not.” “Are you sure?” “Yes!” “But you’re always diving into alien stomachs and shit because I’m so boring.” “No, I’m not!” “Yes you are! You think I’m boring!” “No I don’t!” “Yes, you do. I’m so boring.” “Fucking–Lance, you are not boring.” “But compared to all of you I’m boring!” “Oh my God, shut up and get in this bed and see how bored I am with your di–” “I THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER ASK, SAMURAI!”

When one of them has to get groceries usually the other tags along because anything is a date if you’ve been in a relationship that long, even doing mundane things like renewing their various forms of space identification or walking the new robot dog-thing Pidge made that doesn’t actually need walking but she wants it to come into contact with as much alien life as possible… for… reasons…

Lance is secretly afraid of basements so the weird connecting tunnels of the hangars freak him out, and Keith instinctively slips his hand in Lance’s whenever they walk past the airlocks because he knows they still give Lance the heebie-jeebies.

There’s definitely a T-shirt that everyone is sure is Keith’s because he wears it so often but it was Lance’s when they left Earth… similarly, Lance got into Keith’s stash of beanies and toques and his ears have never been cold in the castle since.

All of the paraphernalia in their room has a name, originally courtesy of Lance but Keith caught on and propagated it and was even super offended on their lamp’s behalf when Lance called it Hermenio  _knowing_  that its name was Archibald, what the  _fuck_ , Lance??


	25. Something to Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was after the cliffhanger of the empty cockpit of the black lion.

The Black Lion’s eyes are cold and empty. Keith almost wants to laugh because clearly Black understands exactly how hollow he’s feeling.

Shiro’s gone.

He’s already mourned Shiro once. He wishes he was more angry, or sad, or  _something_ … he wishes he was just…  _more_. All he feels now is the kind of numb that only sets in after you’re so thoroughly devastated you have nothing left to lose.

“Hey man,” Lance says softly. Keith’s mouth doesn’t move so he looks at Lance so the other knows he’s listening.

Suddenly, Keith isn’t feeling so much nothing anymore. He sees the way Lance’s eyes glint in pain, in loss, because maybe now Keith is beginning to understand how the rest of the team must feel, leaving their families behind. How Allura and Coran must feel, having lost everything and everyone they ever loved, and now feeling just as displaced and homeless as Keith spent most of his life.

Suddenly, Keith is scared. Every desolate, gaping space inside him is now filled with dread, because they’re expecting him to lead. They’re expecting him to be able to keep them all alive, keep them all whole, and bring them back to the people they love.

Lance’s words wash over him in a soothing hum, but all Keith can keep a grasp on is the trepidation pounding through his veins.

Black’s eyes glow gold in the dim light of the hangar.

Keith wishes they didn’t.

Lance pulls Keith’s shaking hand into both of his; they envelop him in warmth but Keith has never been chilled so deep into his bones before.

He glances sideways at Lance, who’s looking at him with so much hope written openly on his face that Keith wants to vomit.

He will always have something to lose. His hand clenches around Lance’s.

He just doesn’t think he’ll survive losing it this time around.


	26. Beauty in the Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More imagines

Ok but imagine Keith and Lance tumbling out of their lions breathless and banged up but still pretty much whole and running at each other like their lives depend on it. When their hands finally meet Lance’s fingers slide home between Keith’s and their knees go so weak with relief they’re laughing despite the tears running down their cheeks and somehow they’re on the ground clinging to one another like they can’t possibly bear to let go (they can’t).

The rest of the team finds them like this and none of them hesitate to join in, collapsing inward like an envelope of gratitude and love and family. Coran is getting tears and snot in his moustache and of course Allura is somehow a gorgeous, graceful crier but it doesn’t matter because they made it, they’re alive, and they’re going home (maybe in that very moment, they’re already there).


	27. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance trying to babysit because they're paladins of Voltron and this should be easy, right?

…except the baby is this adorable fuzzy little fluffball that is all the cuteness of a puppy and a tiny otter rolled up into a fat, round cute but definitely living and definitely sentient alien being. They have no idea what to feed it, how to keep it alive, or how to make it stop emitting this screeching wailing noise like all the most cacophonic alarm clocks and sirens smashed together into auditory chaos.

Lance tries rocking it, talking to it, cooing at it and making silly faces, but this thing doesn’t even need to pause to do anything similar to breathing and the sound continues. He passes the baby off to Keith and tries playing the guitar for it, but it just keeps squirming and shrieking and he’s pretty sure his eardrums are bleeding.

Keith attempts to “read” to it–wherein he picks up a random pamphlet with colourful pages of maybe pictures that make no sense and just starts stringing words along into a nonsensical story–but that’s also to no avail and the baby alien is quick to scrunch up the pictures and toss the crumpled ball away.

Eventually Lance starts singing to it like he would for his cranky teething nephews and nieces, and it actually works. He’s so relieved he could cry, but he’s also so tired his tongue is tripping over all the words to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” so he starts making them up and softly singing, “Baby, baby, go to sleep, please, please, go the fuck to sleep”. Every time he stops the baby starts wailing again, but he’s so exhausted he’s microsleeping every time he blinks.

At some point he clearly lost consciousness and he wakes up to Keith cradling the furbaby to his chest and singing, “Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me–” and Lance grins like an idiot and joins in a little louder than necessary, “BUT I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED!”

Bless the damn alien baby’s soul for not even twitching in its sleep because Keith looks like he’d actually strangle Lance if it started crying again, or at least smother him with the massive eyebags the red paladin was carrying on his cheekbones.

Finally Allura and the others return with the alien royalty whose offspring they somehow managed to soothe with a dulcet rendition of Smash Mouth’s greatest hit, and the alien baby’s parents are legitimately surprised the two humans were able to settle their kid so well.

They offer to make it a regular thing because clearly the baby took a shine to them but Keith is basically dead on his feet and Lance doesn’t have a voice anymore, so Shiro very tactfully declines on their behalf.

Later, Keith asks Lance if he’s ever thought about having kids of his own. Lance snuggles a little closer to Keith and hides his smile in his boyfriend’s stupid hair.


	28. Space Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...which is basically brunch, but in space

Despite being over ten thousand years old, neither Coran nor Allura could quite grasp the concept of “brunch”.

“So it’s the first meal of the day, but it’s not at the beginning of the day?” Coran twirled a finger through his moustache thoughtfully.

“Basically,” Lance said, wiping the sweat from his hairline with the back of his hand. Hunk lugged the bucket of fresh milk away as Lance gave Kaltenecker a grateful pat on her flank.

“That just seems… absurd and inefficient,” Allura muttered, holding her chin in a contemplative fashion.

“That’s because it is,” Keith huffed, rolling his eyes. He paused in his butter churning to allow Hunk to dump a little more cream into the barrel of the churning-thingy. “Brunch is not a real thing. It’s a stupid construct for people who are too lazy to wake up when they’re supposed to.”

Lance gasped theatrically and splayed a hand over his chest with a wounded expression. “How dare you! Brunch is a sacred time of bonding between families, lovers, and friends!”

Hunk nodded sagely from where he was still skimming the cream off the milk in the bucket. “He’s right, Keith. I know the Galra probably don’t have–”

“Dammit, Hunk, I don’t know any more about Galra morning meals than you do!”

Keith scowled at the chunky mixture of less and less emulsified milk fats in the churner as he went back to work, definitely more aggressively than necessary.

“Hey, maybe you need to give brunch a chance, Keith!” Pidge piped up from across the way, pressing soft balls of cheese into wads of synthetic fibres to help wring out the moisture. “It’s definitely not the worst made-up human meal of all time.”

“Exactly. Hunk, make sure we have some banana and peanut-butter smoothies for brunch, I think Pidge has earned it.” Lance and Hunk exchanged winks. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Brunch is still stupid,” he muttered under his breath.

Coran and Allura just continued to look puzzled.

—–

The next day, Hunk had put together a truly incredible spread. There was pretty much every variety of baked good from bagels to streusels to some flaky green thing dusted with a combination of cinnamon-like powder and whatever passed for sugar in space. He had figured out how to prepare food goo to function anywhere eggs would, and it was nothing short of amazing. The butter had gone into pretty much every dish and Keith was loathe to admit that he had essentially died and ascended to some sort of gustatory heaven.

“Still think brunch is stupid?” Lance hedged from his left. Before he could even formulate an answer, Allura was already gushing.

“Goodness, Hunk, this is marvelous! Every meal should be brunch from now on.”

Coran was quick to concur. “Yes, Princess, I believe that would be exactly the type of thing to raise morale around here. Lift the spirits through the stomach!”

Keith sighed. “Okay, brunch isn’t as stupid as I said it was.”

Lance winked at him and Keith wanted to melt into the floor so no one would be able to see how affected he was by it.

“Lance was right when he said it would be a good bonding experience,” Shiro said, face relaxed and carefree in a way they hadn’t seen in a really long time. He spread some more butter on his probably-bagel and hummed in satisfaction.

“To Kaltenecker!” Lance cheered, raising his glass of peanut-butter-banana smoothie.

“To Kaltenecker!” the team responded, even Keith, who raised his glass but averted his eyes. Kosmo quirked his head at him in a way that clearly said, ‘I am not buying your shit for a single second, Keith, you love brunch and you love Lance’.

This was how ‘Team Voltron: Sunday Brunch’ began.


	29. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just thoughts on Lance's birthday stuff

Pretty sure for Lance’s birthday the following things would occur:

Hunk would bake him an amazing cake and cook him a lovely dinner, and everything would be decorated just like that place by the beach with the garlic knots (complete with Hunk’s own garlic knots, which are pretty bomb-tastic).

Pidge would give him an awesome robot that essentially tells him how awesome he is using every nickname he’s ever wanted for himself and doubles as a voice recorder for him to start dictating snippets of his autobiography. They will all do their best not to roll their eyes as he walks by murmuring, “Day 19302, we may not have defeated the Galra but my skin is flawless and I’m slaying this new haircut”.

Shiro would give him something practical but heartfelt, like a really nice watch designed to look pretty similar to Blue. Lance will absolutely not tear up every time he checks how many ticks have elapsed since he last fingered the engraving, “the hero of our hearts” around the sleek chromatic blue clock face.

Coran would give Lance some incredible beautiful method of seeing his home from afar, and Lance would use it pretty much nonstop. He’d huddle up to one of his teammates at a time and they’d sit and essentially do the equivalent of Google Maps streetview from space and it’d be comforting to pretend they are actually home for a while.

Allura would give Lance something actually from Earth that she’d acquired in her childhood from her father’s travels, originally a souvenir of his time spent among humans. The seashell still smelled like the ocean, and she used to love listening to the rush of waves in her ear when she held it close.

Keith would pull Lance aside and bashfully avoid his eyes with his fingers still laced between Lance’s. He’d hold the back of his neck with his opposite hand and bite his lip, letting his hair fall into his face. Then, he’d whisper, “Happy birthday,” and quickly roll up onto his toes to peck Lance’s cheek and push a small box into his chest. Lance would hold it, startled and wide-eyed, and Keith would already be long gone down the hallway.

Later, he’d open the box in his room, away from prying eyes. A small lump of twisted metal would fall into his lap as he tilts the box over.

It gleams purple in the light.

When Lance shows up wearing the pendant on a chain the next day, Keith catches his eye and smiles. Lance notices that Keith’s dagger has a purple glow to it, too. He doesn’t say anything about it, but his heart gives a happy little flutter.

* * *

 

This is actually kind of amazing, because Keith said once that the dagger was the only link he had to his past, and to who he is. By somehow using a part of that dagger to create a gift for Lance, he’s giving Lance this piece of himself and essentially saying, “Hey, this is me, I trust you with everything that I am. Furthermore, by having you wear something so fundamental to my identity, I am showing the entire world that you are another fundamental part of me, my future, and who I hope to be someday.”


	30. Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My feet are cold. Keith sympathizes; Lance is collateral damage.

“It’s cold as balls in here.”

Keith raised an eyebrow from where he was sprawled on their sofa, scrolling through a Buzzfeed article on absolutely nothing important. Of note, he was buried under approximately… all of the blankets they owned.

Lance shuffled into the room in his biggest hoodie, thickest sweatpants, and (perhaps most ridiculous) some oversized fuzzy “reading socks” that he had been ecstatic to receive as a holiday gift last year. (They were basically just slippers that looked like socks…? Keith had no clue why he was so excited about them.) His hood was snug over his head with the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go without making his whole face disappear.

“You can turn up the heat, you know,” Keith murmured from beneath his mountain of blankets.

“Ugh, but that would cost us money we don’t have,” Lance sighed, burrowing under the blanket lasagna encasing his boyfriend and curling up beside him.

Keith sighed but shifted to help Lance get a bit more comfortable.

“Besides,” the Cuban boy said, smile warming his voice as it brushed past Keith’s ear, “when it’s stupid cold like this we get to snuggle like our lives depend on it.”

“They kind of do,” Keith hummed while the fucking frigid ice blocks he called feet started to worm their way toward Lance’s core. He yelped in protest and Keith took a tiny bit of pity on him, letting one foot wriggle into the kangaroo pocket of Lance’s hoodie and the other found its way into the pocket of his sweatpants instead of under his shirt and against his bare skin. Lance huffed and tucked his legs inside the giant blanket cocoon and curled up around Keith’s bony knees.

Just as Lance started to doze off, cozy and cuddled within an inch of his life, Keith’s big toe pressed precisely into his belly button and started to wiggle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I have to pee.”

“Then go!”

“But my feet will be cold once I get out of here…”

Lance rolled his eyes and pulled off his precious reading socks, throwing them at his stupid boyfriend’s head as the other boy smirked at him.


End file.
